


The Night Shift

by pillowcreek



Category: The Bridge (Podcast)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Bar/Pub, Bob the literal goldfish, Discussions of mental illness, Drinking Games, Drinking at work, F/F, First Kiss, Flirting, Getting Together, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Love Confessions, M/M, Minor Violence, Rating May Change, Sorry Roger's Gut, Trans Bertie Renard, Trans Kate Burnham, Vomiting, or at least a version of them, trivia night
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-07
Updated: 2017-09-06
Packaged: 2018-10-29 00:36:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 20,071
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10842792
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pillowcreek/pseuds/pillowcreek
Summary: The bartender AU that nobody asked forEtta and Bertie are bartenders/cooks. Kate's a bouncer. Roger's still their supervisor. Frank's (still) their annoying regular.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So I got this idea when I was out earlier tonight and got super excited to write it so I typed up a quick little prologue as soon as I got home. Most of the chapters will be longer than this though!

Etta’s woken up by the annoying trill of her phone ringtone. She had picked the sound out because she thought it sounded bright and cheerful, but it sounded more grating when waking one up after three hours of sleep. She ignores it before noticing who the caller was. 

It was still a tempting option. 

“Roger!” She did her best to make her voice sound bright and cheery and totally not like she had just woken up. “To what do I owe this pleasure?” 

“I need you to come in to work today. Laura called in sick and I need someone to cover the night shift.” 

This got her awake. “What?! But today’s my day off! You said you wouldn’t call me, you know I have to work on my thesis!” 

“I said I wouldn’t call if I didn’t have to. I’ve already tried everyone else. They’re all either working earlier in the day or have class.” 

Etta groans and buries her face in her pillow. “Are you kidding me right now?” 

“I need you to do this, okay? Just…” There’s a sigh from the other line. “I’ll get someone to cover you on Saturday, alright? Will that work?” 

“I guess.” 

“It’s the best I can do. I’ll see you at seven.” And with that he hung up. 

Etta heaves herself out of bed, resigning herself that she’d only be able to get about half as much done today as she was hoping to. It wasn’t ideal, but it would have to do.

* * *

She arrives downtown around 6:30 and is pleased to see that Kate’s already working the door. “Kate!” 

The woman turns and gives Etta a bright smile. “Hey! Roger told me you were coming in today.” 

“On my day off, too.” 

Kate gives her a friendly clap. “Well, it’s nice of you to be doing him a favour then. Bertie’s working tonight, so you have that to look forward to at least.” 

She perks up slightly at that. “Oh. Well, I guess I can survive then.” 

“Also,” Kate leans in close to whisper to her and Etta’s stomach does a flip. “Frank hasn’t shown up yet, so there’s still hope that you won’t have to deal with him tonight.” 

“Even better.” 

Kate gives her a grin and a wink before turning back to check the ID of a girl who looks far too young to be drinking. Etta heads into the bar, searching for the familiar mop of dark curls that was Bertie Renard. She finds him in the corner, passing out drinks to a small group of men in suits. She catches his eye and nods towards the back room, before heading back there to drop off her bag. 

He joins her a minute later. “I thought you weren’t working today.” 

“Roger made me come in.” 

“Ugh. Well, I’ll appreciate the company. It’s not even seven yet and I’m done with this shift.” 

“What? Business men aren’t your style?” 

He sighs. “They’re better than the frat boys.” 

“True. But hey, look on the bright side! You won’t have to deal with them tonight.” 

“Yeah, I guess that’s true.” 

“You think Roger will let me play music this early?” 

“I doubt it. But you could always ask. You did come in on short notice, after all.” 

“Good point. He in his office?” 

“Of course.” 

“Great.” 

Etta goes over to the door marked ‘Supervisor’ at the back of the kitchen and knocks lightly on the door. 

“Come in.” 

She pokes her head in. Roger’s hunched over his desk, glaring at the papers spread out in front of him like they had personally offended him in some way. “You alright there?” 

“I’m fine.” 

“You sure? Because you don’t look like-“ 

“I said, I’m _fine._ What did you want?” 

“I was just wondering if I could play some music? It is Friday night after all.” 

“It’s also only quarter to seven. No one’s here yet that would actually want loud music playing.” 

Etta groans. “But it’s so _quiet_ out there.” 

“That’s what some people want. A quiet place to buy a drink and talk with friends. Oh, and eat food.” He gives her a pointed look. “Shouldn’t you be getting ready for your shift?” 

“I’m like, five minutes from being ready. Come on, can I at least put it on at eight?” 

He sighs heavily, like the idea of playing music at eight at night physically hurt him. “Nine.” 

“Eight thirty.” 

“Eight forty-five.” 

“Eight forty.” He glares at her. “Fine, fine, eight forty-five.” 

“Is there anything else that you wanted?” 

It was tempting to try for a joke and say that she wanted to be home working on her thesis paper, but she knew it wouldn’t go over so well with him. “Nope, nothing.” 

“Great. Then you can get ready for your shift.” 

Etta rolls her eyes and leaves the room, closing the door behind her with a sigh. Things only got worse when she heard a familiar voice greeting Bertie outside. 

“Bertie! How’s it going? Etta working tonight?” 

 _Lie for me, Bertrand. Lie for me._ “Hey Frank. Yeah, I think she’s just in the back right now.” _Damn it!_

“Great!” 

Etta would bang her head against the wall, but she doesn’t think that would go over well with Roger who would probably come out and yell at her for making noise. As she heads towards the bathroom to get changed she thinks to herself:  _At least it’s not Tuesday._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hopefully you enjoyed the prologue! I had some trouble writing Etta, so hopefully she wasn't too OOC. Let me know if there's anything standing out to you that I should change about her characterization though!
> 
> Come and talk to me on tumblr @pillowcreeks


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Roger is just so done. Also Etta and Kate get progressively gayer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so so much to everyone who has been supporting this fic so far by leaving kudos or a comment! You're all super lovely people and I appreciate it so much! 
> 
> Also a MASSIVE shout-out to Kate (whoopsiedaisiedoo) who was a ginormous help while I was writing this chapter! <3

The first thing Roger does when he arrives for the evening shift is feed the bar’s pet goldfish. The aquarium was at the back of the bar where it was less likely to be damaged or puked in by drunken buffoons. Etta had decked it out so that it looked as nice as possible for Bob, complete with a small sign that had his name on it. Personally, Roger thought it was a little much, but it made her happy so he put up with it. 

He’s shaking some fish flakes into the water when a familiar voice greets him. He turns around to see Kate, dressed in her typical off-work clothing, complete with a leather jacket and a beer in her hand. 

“Is Etta working tonight?” she asks, taking a seat at a nearby table. 

“Yeah, she should be here in a few minutes.” He pauses before adding, “You aren’t here just to distract her from her job, are you?” 

“What? Me? Never.” 

“Kate…” 

“I just want to talk to her, okay?” 

“About what?” 

Kate shrugs. “Whatever comes to mind.” 

“That’s called being a distraction.” 

“Oh, like you don’t have your own distraction?” 

Roger feels his ears heat up and he turns his attention back to Bob so that Kate couldn’t read the look on his face. “That’s different.” 

“How the hell is that any different from this?” 

“I don’t feed into mine.” 

She scoffs. “Sure you don’t.” 

“I _don’t._ I’m able to do my job just fine. And anyways, Etta has enough trouble focusing without you back there to distract her.” 

“Oh come on Roger, it’s a Monday night. How many orders do you think she’ll actually have to fill? On a _Monday night_?” 

He refuses to admit that she has a point so he ignores her instead. Kate sighs and stands up. “I’ll see you around then.” 

He listens to her footsteps retreating back towards the kitchen, followed by the opening and then closing of the kitchen door. He briefly considers going after her and striking up a compromise - talking but only when there’s no order to be filled - but the thought of backing down at this point isn’t exactly appealing to him. 

He waits a couple of minutes before heading to the back himself. Etta had just arrived and she and Kate were busy making doe eyes at each other as per usual. They’d been doing so for the past few months, ever since Kate had joined the staff as their weekend bouncer/security guard. 

She was the newest member of their team but had settled in like she had been there for years. Most of the staff mainly kept to themselves outside of work, but Kate liked to talk to everyone, particularly Etta and Bertie who had trouble keeping to themselves as well. And as much as Roger hated to admit it, she had wormed her way into his heart as well. They all had, to the point where if Kate said she’d double check something with “the others” he knew exactly what she meant. They kept trying to get him to go out with them outside of work and he had managed to refuse so far, but he wasn’t sure he could keep it up much longer. As much as he disliked going out and doing things, the three of them made him happy. 

Happier than he’d been in a long while. 

The pile of papers spread across his desk when he enters the office makes him groan. Yvette clearly didn’t feel like finishing her share of the work before finishing her shift and he knew by now that there was no point in bringing it up with the boss. The owner of The Bridge didn’t seem to care that much about who was in charge of the bar so long as it stayed afloat. And if things began going under, there was always the risk that she’d take it out on one of the bartenders rather than the incompetent supervisor. And Roger didn’t want to chance that. 

He begins making his way through the work that Yvette had left for him. It was mostly just shift schedules and requests for time off. He makes a note to book Etta off for the next couple of Saturdays, doubling his promise because she’d had to deal with Frank all night. 

There’s a knock at the door. “Come in,” he says. 

The door creaks open and Bertie pokes his head in. “Hey, do we have any more cherries?” 

“Yeah, they should be in the fridge. Like they always are?” he says pointedly. 

Bertie shakes his head. “All out.” 

Roger mutters a swear word under his breath. “The afternoon shift must have forgotten to restock them. Check the supply fridge.” 

“Already checked there too.” 

He mutters another swear word and shifts through the papers for the order form. Unsurprisingly, cherries were not on the list. “Of course not,” he grumbles. 

“Problem?”   
  
Roger glances back at Bertie, who’s watching him with wide, calm eyes. His heart skips a beat in his chest. “Yvette didn’t fill out the order form for it. Again.” 

He chuckles. “When does she ever?” 

“Yes, but that doesn’t exactly make things easier now does it?” 

“So does that mean I get to experiment tonight?” 

“No way. Just leave it out. Most drinks don’t rely on it, it’s just a garnish.” 

“Aw.” Bertie sinks a little and Roger can’t help but feel slightly sorry for him. He quickly pushes it aside, knowing that allowing Bertie to experiment with the drinks wouldn’t end well on its own, let alone with Etta there to “help” him out. 

“Go make puppy eyes at Kate if you want somebody to feel sorry for you,” he says instead. 

“Well I _would_ but she’s too busy flirting with Etta.” 

“Wait, who’s covering the front then?” 

“No one, there was like, one customer when I came back here.” 

“Bertie.” 

He sighs and rolls his eyes. “Understood. Don’t do all of Yvette’s work,” he says before closing the door. 

Roger scribbles down a note to go through the fridges and cupboards later to make sure they aren’t missing anything else, before getting up and heading out to the front. Unsurprisingly, he finds Bertie juggling between the now four customers while Etta chatters excitedly to Kate, who looks like she’s just seen the most adorable thing in the world. 

“Etta,” he says sternly. 

She looks back at him absentmindedly for a second, clearly still distracted, before noticing who’s speaking to her. “Roger… Hi… Uh, when’d you come out here?” 

He sighs and gestures for her to come into the back. She does so sullenly and Kate shoots him an annoyed look. 

“Hey, I warned you,” he reminds her before following Etta. 

Etta’s sulking slightly when he approaches her, obviously not happy to have been pulled away from her conversation. “I was still doing my job,” she says before he gets the chance to speak. 

He lets out an exasperated laugh. “Really? How exactly is leaving Bertie with four customers doing your job?” 

“There were not four customers out there!” 

Is she serious right now? “Were you even-“ He groans. “Oh for- Just look out there, will you?” 

Etta glances back into the main area of the bar before looking at him sheepishly. “Oh.” 

“Yeah. Oh is right.” 

“I’m sorry. I guess I just got a little distracted.” 

“Distracted?” 

“Yeah, I was talking to Kate. It happens.” 

“We’re not paying you to be distracted.” 

“I’m sorry, okay?” 

“Can you focus for the rest of the evening without me checking up on you?” 

Etta huffs, going back to looking sullen. “Yes.” 

“Then do it.” 

She returns to the main room, albeit rather grumpily. Roger rubs his temples. It was shaping up to be a _long_ night. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you wanna talk about Bridge theories or even just about the show in general, hit me up on tumblr @pillowcreeks
> 
> (also I'm sorry that this chapter is still so short, they'll get longer soon once the plot picks up. this is kind of just more intro stuff, sorry)


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahahahaha it's only been what, a month? Hehe... he... 
> 
> Sorry about the wait, folks. On the plus side, I've worked out an actual outline for this story, complete with a vague plot (mostly romance stuff tbh) and all. It should be about around 12 chapters, so look forward to that. 
> 
> The next chapter hopefully won't take as long to finish. Thanks to everyone over on tumblr who helped with the brainstorming for this chapter when I got stuck.

Kate’s just getting off the bus when her phone rings. She checks the caller id to see if it’s something she can ignore until after she’s grabbed some food. It’s Etta. 

“Kate!? Are you there?!” She sounds panicked. 

“Yeah Etta, I’m here. What’s wrong?” 

“It’s Percy and Nora. They’re at it again and they seem… well…” Etta’s voice fades off and is replaced by the faint sound of yelling from two of the bar’s more unpleasant members. She must be holding the phone out towards them. 

“He’s just being kept trapped in that tiny tiny little bowl! It’s not fair to him!” Nora yells. 

“He’s in an aquarium! That’s what goldfish _like!”_ Roger replies. 

“That’s only what corporate America _wants_ you to think! They want you to keep torturing these poor creatures until they die and you have to buy a new one and they make even more money!” Percy shouts. 

Etta’s voice returns. “They’re a bit more agitated than usual.” 

Kate’s already jogging across the street to the bus stop to go back downtown. “I’ll be there in ten. Try to keep them from stealing Bob until I get there.”

Percy and Nora were employees of the bar but in a much different way than the rest of them were. While Kate manned the door, Bertie and Etta tended the bar, and Roger kept them all in line, Percy and Nora were responsible for the entertainment. If you could call it that. Every Tuesday, from six thirty to seven thirty, the two of them preformed live music for the bar along with their bandmate Bollard. 

The only problem (well, really more like the first) was that they were absolutely terrible musicians. As far as Kate could tell, they had only gotten the job because Bollard seemed to have some sort of connection to the owner of the Bridge. It drove Roger nuts because he wasn’t able to fire them, even though they got into arguments with customers or employees nearly every time they came. 

Plus they kept hitting on Etta like the creeps they were. 

Roger was usually able to handle it when she wasn’t there, but it sounded like they had decided to come after him this week. Which meant that Etta and Bertie were probably trying to break the three of them up, which would only cause Bollard to jump in like she always did whenever Bertie was around. She had a habit of taunting him whenever he came into a five foot radius of her. 

Kate enters the bar just in time to see Nora punch Roger in the gut before hitting him in the face. 

She responds the only way she knows how: by tackling Nora to the fucking ground. 

Nora makes a vague noise of complaint as she’s pinned to the ground but Kate ignores her, choosing to check on her friends instead. Etta’s standing perfectly still, her eyes as wide as an owl’s. Next to her, Bertie looks like he’s about to join Kate in kicking Nora’s ass. Roger’s doubled up on the floor next to Kate, muttering a string of swear words as blood streams from his nose. 

“You alright?” she asks him. 

He gives her a small nod as he gingerly touches his nose, wincing slightly. “Doesn’t seem to be broken.” 

She glances over at the other two. “How about you two?” 

“Oh, _they’re_ fine!” Nora snaps from below her. “What about me? I’m the one you just slammed to the floor!” 

“You just physically attacked one of the bar’s employees. As their security guard I’m allowed to use a reasonable amount of force to restrain you.” 

“So that makes it fine if I get injured in the process?” Nora grumbles. 

“Are you injured?” 

“…No.” 

“That’s what I thought.” She lets her up anyways. “You want to explain to me what exactly is going on here?” 

“He won’t let us release Bob!” Percy blurts out. He’s clutching his drumsticks like he’d been bursting to speak for the past two minutes. Knowing Percy, he probably had been. 

Kate sighs and rubs the bridge of her nose. “Percy, we’ve been over this before. Bob is a _freshwater_ fish. You can’t just throw him back into the ocean.” 

“We’re not going to release him into the _ocean.”_ He says this like it should be obvious, despite them having spent the past three months talking about how Bob wanted to be free with his shark friends. They had chosen to ignore the fact that said shark friends would eat him before he had a chance to die from all the salt in the water. “We found a nice little lake for him to swim around in.” 

“That doesn’t matter!” Etta blurts out. “Bob is _our_ fish. He belongs to the bar and he’s staying here!” 

“You say that like you can _own_ an animal,” Nora says. 

“You can,” Bertie says. “You pay for them and everything. It’s called a pet.” 

“Oh, is that what he is? I thought you were the bar’s pet,” Bollard says from her seat behind Percy’s drum set. To a casual observer it might have appeared that she didn’t care much for their conversation, but Kate could tell that she was listening with rapt attention. 

“Okay everyone, let’s all just calm down,” Kate says slowly. “Bob’s not going anywhere.” 

“And that’s exactly what the problem is!” Nora snaps. “You have to let him go free!” 

“Where’s Frank when you need him?” Kate hears Bertie mutters under his breath. 

“Don’t jinx it!” Etta hisses back. 

“Look, you know that he’s fine here,” Kate says to the musician trio. “You know that he’s safe and well cared for. And I think you also know that the second you release him out into the wild he’ll either starve or get eaten by some larger fish. It’s better that he stay here.” 

Percy sighs. “What a typical omnivore approach to the world.” 

“You know that it’s not natural for any animal to eat each other? That’s just a lie the meat industry feeds you,” Nora adds. 

“Even tigers could survive entirely off of grass,” Bollard pipes up again from behind the drum set. 

“I wish a tiger would survive off your face,” Etta mutters. 

Kate sighs. “We’re losing the point. You guys aren’t allowed to release Bob. And if you try again then we’ll have to press charges for theft. Now I presume you three know the way out?” 

“You’re kicking us out?” Percy asks. 

“Uh, yeah? Nora did just beat up Roger. You’re getting off easy.” 

The three of them pack up their things, muttering under their breath as they go. Kate notices Bollard texting someone as they’re leaving and hopes that it’s not the owner, even though she knows it is. Hopefully she’d go easy on them this time considering that Roger still had blood streaming from his nose. 

Etta still looks pretty shaken up, so Kate gets Bertie to take care of Roger while she grabs her a glass of water. “You alright?” 

She sighs. “Yeah, just… Lots of yelling. Never a fun time, you know?” 

“I would’ve thought you’d be used to it by now, working in a bar and all that.” 

“A little bit. It’s still hard when it happens though. Especially when it gets violent like that.” 

“Yeah, they were definitely more worked up than usual, weren’t they?” Kate says. 

“Yeah. They managed to drive away all our customers this time.” 

“Why the boss keeps them around, I’ll never understand.” 

“I’m _pretty_ sure she’s screwing Bollard,” Etta says. 

Kate laughs. “Seriously?” 

“Yeah. I mean, have you _heard_ Bollard talk about her? Definitely gay.” 

“Mm, good point. Still though. Bollard? Really?” 

“Okay but also the boss? Really?” 

“I dunno, she’s kind of cute,” Kate says. “I could see Bollard going for her.” 

Etta bristles. “Hm. I guess.” She stands up, leaving her water untouched. “I should get back to work. Frank’ll be in soon.” 

“Are you sure? I mean, it’s Frank. I’m sure he wouldn’t mind waiting for-“ 

“I’m sure.” Etta walks back over to the bar, not even looking at her. 

Kate pushes down her disappointment and heads into the back to check on Roger. She finds him with a wad of paper towels pressed to his nose and an anxiously babbling Bertie. “Are you sure it’s not broken? It looks pretty broken.” 

“Yes Bertie, I’m sure it’s not broken,” he mutters. 

“Yeah she hit you pretty hard but you should be fine in a minute,” Kate says as she joins them. 

“See? I told you,” Roger says, but Bertie still looks worried. 

“I dunno, that’s a lot of blood…” 

“Yeah, because I was just hit in the face.” 

“Don’t worry about it Bertie,” Kate says. “I see this kind of injury all the time, he’ll be fine.” 

Bertie nods slowly but still looks unsure. “How’s Etta?” he asks. 

“Pretty shaken up, but she’ll be alright. She’s getting ready for Frank to come by.” 

He nods again. “I’ll go help her.” 

“Did Bollard text the boss?” Roger asks once Bertie has vanished to the front room. 

“I think so. She was on her phone when they were leaving.” 

“Shit,” Roger mutters. “She’s going to kill me.” 

“Nora attacked you, she’s got to understand.” 

“You know what she’s like. And this is the second time this month we’ve kicked them out, she hates it when we do that.” 

“Stop worrying, it’ll be fine. We’ll all back you up.” 

“Yeah, alright. Sure.” He takes the paper towels away from his nose, grumbling under his breath. “Sorry for making you come in on your day off.” 

“No worries. I’m always happy to help.” 

“Yeah. I just wish you didn’t have to so much.” 

“I know.” She nudges him with her shoulder. “Look on the bright side though.” 

“What bright side?” 

Kate does her best sing-song voice. “He was worried about you~” 

Roger glares at her. “I will end you.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hit me up on tumblr @pillowcreeks if you wanna talk about these nerds


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bertie makes a bet with Frank and considers online dating.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello again, folks! So a bit of a longer wait than I was expecting since I was working on Sleeping Dragon for Camp Nano, but now that that's done, I've made this story my Camp Nano project for the rest of the month! So expect a few more chapters in the near future (judging by how long it took me to write this one, I'm hoping for one every couple of days? But no promises). 
> 
> Content warning for discussions of character death in this chapter.

Bertie pulled out his phone, careful to keep it hidden under the bar. The Bridge had been quiet for the past hour or so and while he felt confident enough that he wouldn’t get in trouble for being on his phone, he didn’t want Etta to see what he was doing. She was currently on the other side of the room wiping down tables so he decided to take advantage of his few minutes of semi-privacy to open the dating app that he had downloaded that morning. 

He had been opposed to the idea when Frank had first suggested it to him a couple nights ago. He’d been complaining to Bertie about a date who hadn’t been returning his calls. 

_“Hey, I never actually asked: do you have a girlfriend?” Frank had said, pausing in his story to broach the question._

_Bertie had stopped wiping down the counter, his heart stuttering in his chest. “Uh, no. Not anymore.”_

_“Oh, recent breakup? That’s shit, man. You know what you need to do though? You need to make her jealous.”_

_“Well it’s not exactly what you think. We-“_

_Frank interrupted him. “No man, trust me. Jealousy always works.”_

_“Not in this case it won’t.”_

_“What, did she turn out to be gay or something?”_

_“Or something.”_

_Frank slapped his hand on the counter. “Well then you need to get back out there! How long’s it been?”_

_“Since I’ve been in a serious relationship?”_

_“Or on a date. Whichever’s more recent.”_

_“Five years.” Bertie didn’t add the nine months and twenty-six days that he knew were missing. Frank didn’t need to know those._

_Frank stared at him in amazement. “Five_ years? _Since you went on a date? Really?”_

_Bertie shrugged. “I didn’t want to try again. It didn’t really feel worth it.”_

_“Dude, you’re missing out on so much. You’re what, twenty-five?”_

_“Twenty-six.”_

_“Dude! There’s so much out there for you! It’s too early to throw in the towel. Have you even tried online dating yet?”_

_“No. I just…” Bertie shrugged. “I don’t know.”_

_“Just try it. I will bet you five shots that you find the girl of your dreams through online dating.”_

_“Oh yeah? And what if I find the boy of my dreams instead?”_

_Frank blinked in surprise a few times. “Oh! I didn’t know you were gay. You said you had a girlfriend.”_

_“I did.” Bertie tried not to laugh. It was rude to laugh at the customers._

_“But you like guys?”_

_“And girls.”_

_“Huh. Okay, well either way. Five shots if you don’t find the_ person _of your dreams online.” Frank pointed at him accusingly as he pulled out his wallet to pay. “And you actually have to try, okay?”_

_“Okay, and when does this bet end?”_

_“Hm, let’s give it two months. If, by the end of two months, you haven’t found someone through online dating that’s perfect for you, then I’ll buy you five shots. If you have, then you buy me five shots.”_

_Bertie handed him his change. “And what if I find someone through more traditional dating means?”_

_“Oh, we’re widening the playing field, are we?”_

_He shrugged. “If I’m going to take this bet, I might as well go all in.”_

_“Well, since I’m arguing that the field is still wide open for you, getting a relationship at all goes towards the five shots for me.” Frank shook his hand. “And I’m pretty sure I’ll win. Get ready to get laid again, my friend.”_

_“Really? You could have gone for “get ready to fall in love” but instead you went for getting laid?”_

_“Best part of a relationship.” Frank had winked at him before heading out._

Now it was two days later and Bertie was still beating himself up over his decision to take the bet. He knew that trying to move on would be good for him, and he knew that she would want him to be happy, but… 

Your fiancé dying wasn’t something that you just got over. Even if it was five years ago. 

It was the worst from of baggage that he could think of and one that he doubted many people would be willing to work through. Because it wasn’t as if he would ever stop loving her. She would always be there in his heart and the grief would never truly go away. Who would want to date someone who might never be able to fully love them? And even if he could love someone fully again one day; that might not be for years. No one would be willing to wait that long. 

But he had told Frank that he would try. He would put in his best effort. So Bertie stared down at his phone, debating his second conundrum: online dating. 

It just seemed so impersonal. You met someone through your phone, greeted with the glossy, polished version of themselves. Not to mention that everyone was judging each other based on their looks and a few lines of text. It seemed so rude. So unromantic. 

_“So how’d you two meet?”_

_“Well I decided that their face was hot enough and they didn’t say anything blatantly racist or misogynistic in the two sentences they wrote, so I sent them a picture of my dick.”_

Yeah, that’s a great way to meet. 

“Whatcha doing?” Etta had appeared back behind the bar. 

Bertie quickly closed his phone and put it back in his pocket. “Nothing.” 

Etta raised her eyebrows. “It sure didn’t look like nothing. What are you hiding from me?” 

He paused, considering whether telling her was a good course of action. “You can’t make fun of me for this,” Bertie finally said after careful deliberation. 

She put her hands up defensively. “Whoa. Do I _ever_ make fun of you?” 

“You make fun of all of us on a daily basis.” 

“Do I ever make fun of you in a cruel way, I mean.” 

Bertie sighed and took his phone back out to show her. “I got a dating app.” 

Etta giggled. “A dating app? _You?_ ” 

“Frank bet me five shots that I could find love through it.” 

“And you took that bet?” 

He shrugged. “I figured it was an easy five shots.” 

“Probably. Dating apps are just a sad, bottomless pit of dick pics, serial killers and desperation.” 

“Wow, you should write slogans.” 

Etta laughed as she began wiping down the bar. “Seriously though? A dating app?” 

“Are they really that bad?” 

“If you’re fine with guys getting angry because you-“ she gasped dramatically- “have a life?! Like a normal person? And you can’t respond to their messages right away all the time? And all the girls are just there to ask you to be in a threeway with them and their boyfriend. Well, you won’t have that problem. Probably.” 

“No wonder Frank told me to sign up for one,” Bertie grumbled, putting his phone away again. 

“You’ve never heard about the horrors of Tinder?” 

“I haven’t exactly been paying attention to the dating scene.” 

Etta paused in her cleaning to consider that statement. “You know now that you mention it, I don’t think I’ve ever heard you talk about going on dates. Or mention any sort of partner. I know you’re queer, but beyond that… I know nothing about your romantic life. Do you even date?” 

“Not recently. That’s why Frank came up with the bet in the first place.” 

“Wait, are you aro? You could’ve just told him that you know. I mean he’s kind of out of touch on that stuff but-“ 

“Nope, not aro. Just that my last relationship kind of ended… Well, it ended.” 

“Ah.” Etta crouched down to clean the underside of the bar. It was that kind of a night. “So you’re trusting Frank’s judgement on the best way to meet people?” 

“No. I think online dating’s impersonal. I mean, if it works for you, great. People are always meeting up here for dates they met online, right? And some of them seem to go really well. It’s just not how I imagined meeting my soulmate, you know?” Not to mention that he was pretty sure he had already met her and lost her. 

Not to mention that she had been amazing. She had been worth every painful second of losing and mourning her because every torturous moment was preceded by one that was glorious and joyful. She had been a shining beacon of hope for him, shining brightly when his parents died, when he felt more alone than he thought he ever could be, when he was struggling through his engineering degree. She had been funny and loving and patient and kind and everything. And then she was gone and he was even more alone than before. 

And now it was just a matter of healing and trying not to be alone. But that was hard when he felt a splitting pain in his chest every time he imagined not being alone because how could he replace something so tremendous? 

Etta laughed. “So you think you’re just going to meet your soulmate on the street? Bump into them and just know? Cause I’m sorry Bertrand, that kind of stuff only happens in romcoms.” 

“Well, no, not exactly. But meeting someone with the intention of dating them just feels-“ Shallow? Judgmental? 

“So you don’t like blind dates either then, huh?” 

“I’m slightly less opposed to them.” 

“Bertrand that doesn’t even make sense.” 

“Well it’s your friends picking someone for you from their group of friends, right?” Etta made an affirmative noise from underneath the bar. “So then they know both of you pretty well. They know your pros and cons, so to speak. And they’ll know whether you’d work in reality. On a dating site it’s just you trying to get laid. You’re putting your best self forward and it’s not real.” 

“Okay, so that makes a little more sense.” Etta crawled out from under the bar and Bertie gave her a hand up. “You’re still giving it a whirl though?” 

“I told Frank I’d try as hard as I could to find a date.” 

“Wait, does Frank actually meet people through this?” 

“Yeah, but it sounds like he doesn’t manage to get a second date with anyone.” 

“Hey, that’s still one more date than I was expecting him to be able to get.” Etta said. 

“See?” Bertie said. “Online portrayal. Almost no one would date him if they knew him in real life.” 

Etta snickered. “I would suggest we mess up his future dates, but it sounds like he’s doing a pretty decent job of that himself.” 

Bertie flicked her with the washcloth. “That would be mean, Etta.” 

“And Frank’s an angel?” 

“Still…” 

She sighed heavily. “Fine. I still can’t believe you took such a dumb bet though.” 

“I told you,” Bertie said. “Easy way to get five free shots.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm @pillowcreeks on tumblr


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The bar has a Trivia Night. Fun fact: nobody likes them. Except for maybe Kate.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ohhhh look who's on fire with these updates! Two in (technically) the same day, whoop whoop! 
> 
> Hope you enjoy, I had a ton of fun writing this one! 
> 
> Also, a minor content warning for mentions of throwing up near the end.

Etta sunk against the bar, resisting the urge to bang her head against it. Trivia Night. Of course she was working Trivia Night. AKA the one night things got crazy busy and crazy stupid. Well, the one night after any major holiday. Or any Friday night. Or any Saturday night. 

Okay, so maybe Trivia Night wasn’t the worst night to be working. 

It still sucked though. 

Nearly every table in the bar was filled and they had some promotion on free beer going which meant that she had to be on the lookout for any fake tickets. Because of course they couldn’t just print off original tickets that were unique and creative. No, they had to buy those rolls of carnival tickets from Dollarama. The ones that made it easy for people to just buy their own and get free beer all night. 

“We could’ve just marked people’s hands but nooo, they decided to go with the option that makes my life harder,” Etta muttered under her breath as she grabbed a clean tray of glasses from the back. 

Bertie, standing elbows deep in soap suds at the sink, looked up when she came in. “What’s the problem?” 

“Nothing really. I was just complaining about our employer’s super creative way of keeping us on our toes.” 

“The free beer promo?” he asked, amused. 

“Yep. It’s just… so much fun.” 

“Did you want to swap places?” 

Etta considered the sink full of dirty dishes. The water was still fairly clear, but it looked like there were a few plates of ex-nachos coming up soon. “I think I’ll pass for right now. Thanks though.” 

“Probably a good choice. That cheese is looking pretty gross.” 

“Yeah, have fun with that one.” Wet cheese was not a good time. 

Etta returned to the front and began putting the glasses away. It looked like most of the teams had arrived by now and were signing up near the stage, so she probably had a few minutes of reprieve. She certainly didn’t pity Roger and Kate, who were both trying to get the names of the teams and their members sorted out. This was the worst part of their evening: her worst part came later. 

More specifically it came about five minutes later when people began approaching her with their food and drink orders. Etta poked her head into the kitchen to call for Bertie’s help writing them all down. At first he looked all too happy to escape the cheese, but his face dropped when he got out to the front. 

“Yeah,” Etta said. “We’re busier than usual. I guess somebody’s having a party.” 

“Okay,” he said slowly, taking a deep breath to steady himself. “We can manage this. You wanna take the people on the left and I’ll take the ones on the right?” 

“Sounds good.” 

It was nearly ten minutes later before they had all of the orders written down. Etta stared at the small mountain of papers. “You be okay with the food?” she asked Bertie. 

He nodded. “You just keep them happy with alcohol.” 

“I think alcohol generally makes people hungrier. Or at least that’s what it does for me.” She hummed happily. “Mm, jalepeno poppers. Best drunk food there is.” 

“Please don’t mention cheese in front of me again for the rest of the evening. I can still picture the nachos.” 

Etta laughed and grabbed a bottle of tequila. “You’d better get on those food orders then. Otherwise I might just have to begin listing off cheese based goodies. Mm, pizza… Cheesy garlic bread…” 

Bertie groaned and backed into the kitchen. “You’re the worst.” 

“I’m the best.” 

Etta set about making the first set of drink orders. Before too long, Roger took the stage to read off the instructions and rules for the evening while Kate walked over to join Etta at the bar. 

“How’s it going?” she asked. 

Etta glanced up at her briefly. “Not too bad. Kind of busy though. Can’t talk much.” 

Kate flashed her a grin that made Etta’s heart stutter in her chest. “No worries. I just wanted to check on you. You mind if I make sarcastic comments about how bad the teams are?” 

“Please. That’s the only thing that’s going to get me through this night.” 

“Sweet.” Kate twisted around in her seat to watch the stage. 

“Okay, we’re going to start off with an easy one as a warm up,” Roger said. “What city is the capital of Canada? You have sixty seconds.” 

The teams got to work debating the question. Etta picked up her tray of drinks and made her way over to the table that ordered them. She noticed Roger send Kate a despairing look as she went and tried to hide a smirk. Nobody hated Trivia Night as much as Roger did. 

“Alright, let’s see your answers,” he said as Etta returned behind the bar and a member from each team raised their whiteboard above their head. 

Roger scanned the room slowly before letting out a deep sigh. “Team E gets 10 points.” 

“Yikes. That bad?” Etta asked Kate, keeping her head down as she mixed drinks. 

Kate snickered. “I think one guy just wrote a series of question marks on his. Oh, and there’s the obligatory penguins vote. Seriously, are they even trying?” 

The evening didn’t get any sadder from that point on, but it sure did get a hell of a lot more hilarious. Etta’s personal favourite was Roger sighing heavily before saying in the most defeated voice, “Bill Wurtz is not an author, and he didn’t write _A Brief History of Time._ That’s not even the name of the video.” The look on his face screamed _what the hell is wrong with you_ but he’d never say that out loud. 

He eventually called for a five minute break halfway through the night and came over to collapse at the bar next to Kate, who gave him a sympathetic pat on the back. “You haven’t killed any of them yet. Good job.” 

“I asked what a legless reptile was called and one of them said frog,” he mumbled into his arms. “Frogs have legs, Kate. Frogs have legs.” 

“It could be a lot worse,” she pointed out. “They could’ve said something that wasn’t a reptile.” 

Roger looked up at her and whispered in the most betrayed voice, “Frogs are _amphibians._ ” 

“Huh.” Kate considered that. “I always mix those two up.” 

Roger groaned and buried his face in his arms again. 

“Aw, cheer up!” Etta said. 

Roger looked up at her and she knew that if they weren’t at work he would’ve flipped her off. 

“Do you want some alcohol? Cheer you up? Make it easier to cope with the terrible answers?” she coaxed. 

“Etta. We’re at work.” 

“So? We work at a bar. No one’s gonna care.” 

“I am not drinking on the job,” he said. 

“Does that mean that we also can’t then?” Kate asked. 

Roger made a disgruntled noise before slinking back up towards the stage. 

“He never actually said no!” Etta said, winking at Kate. 

Kate laughed. “I think the thought was there though. We’d better not.” 

Etta pouted and Kate laughed again. “Some other time though.” 

She grinned. “Is that a promise?” 

“Sure, why not? You seem like you’d be a fun drinking buddy.” 

Etta resisted the urge to do a little happy dance but promised herself that she would do one after she got home. “Sounds like a date.” 

It took her a moment and a surprised look from Kate before Etta was quickly trying to backtrack. “I mean, like a hangout date! Like the saying! You know, it’s a date! Like, not a _date_ date, just… a date! Yeah…” 

Kate laughed and Etta nearly died inside. _Why oh why does this woman have to be so damn attractive all the damn time? Doesn’t she get tired of it? Doesn’t she need time to rest? Recuperate those attractive muscles?_

“I get what you mean,” Kate said. “And I’d love to. Sometime when we’re not both working. Or busy with grad school. How’s that thesis going?” 

Etta laughed nervously. “Oh, that… That’s going… Great?” 

“That bad, huh?” 

She groaned and thumped her head lightly against the bar. “It’s terrible. I’ve never hated anything so much in my life. I hate myself for deciding to do grad school and I’m pretty sure that’s why I went into it too.” 

“You’ll get it. Not too much work left now, right?” 

“I guess. Just wish it would hurry up and be good already.” 

“You’ll do fine. You’re smart.” 

“And yet the books are still kicking my ass,” Etta said with a sigh. 

“Have you tried osmosis?” Kate asked, smirking. 

Etta rolled her eyes. “Hilarious.” 

Kate gasped. “You have, haven’t you?!” 

“I’m not going to dignify that question with a response,” she said, picking up a tray of dirty glasses and walking into the back, leaving Kate laughing at the bar by herself. 

Bertie looked up when she came in. “How is it out there?” 

“Oh, it’s terrific. Kate’s teasing me, Roger’s about five seconds away from losing his professional filter, and I’m really pushing those cheese items for you.” 

Bertie looked ill. “Please don’t mention the cheese again.” 

Etta winced. “Geez, I didn’t know it was that bad. Sorry, Bertrand.” Now she was really glad that she hadn’t taken him up on his offer to switch places. 

“It’s fine, you didn’t know.” 

She stood on her tiptoes to rest her chin on his shoulder and watched as he worked. It was a nice break from the loud noise and ruckus outside the kitchen. It was like there was this safety bubble wrapped around the two of them, blocking out the rest of the world and the stress of work. 

“Etta, you’re making it hard for me to clean.” 

She scoffed. “I thought you’d be glad for that. You hate cleaning.” 

“Beats having to be out there.” 

“Your anxiety really bad again?” 

Bertie made a quiet noise of affirmation. “Roger said I could stay back here for the evening if I made sure it was spotless by the time I left.” 

“Shucks, there goes my plan to pour tar all over the floor right before your shift ended,” Etta teased. 

He laughed quietly. “You’d better get back out there. People’ll be wanting their alcohol.” 

Etta hummed. “True. Roger didn’t say anything about the bathrooms being clean, did he? Because we’ll probably have at least one puker.” 

“Tonight I’d take cleaning up vomit over having to talk to people.” 

That bad, huh? “Sorry I made you take orders earlier. You should’ve said something.” 

Bertie shook his head. “You needed the help. I was fine.” 

“You sure?” 

“Yes. Now get back out there. If the teams are as bad as you say they are, Roger doesn’t need an excuse to yell at you tonight.” 

Etta groaned and stepped back from him. “Fine. You wanna grab pizza and a movie after our shift ends though?” 

“Always.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fun fact: I have a tumblr where I talk about The Bridge a lot: @pillowcreeks


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Roger is tired. Oh so very tired.

Roger had already been having a terrible day when he walked into The Bridge to see the members of Poseidon seated at the bar. It had been a week and a half since they had last been in as they hadn’t shown up for their usual Tuesday set. Kate was standing near the bar watching them closely while Etta served them their drinks. Nora looked over as he approached and gave him an apologetic wave. 

“Hey… How’s your nose doing?” she asked. 

“Fine,” he said. 

“If it makes you feel any better, she didn’t hit you as hard as she hit the bartender over at Polaris,” Percy said cheerfully. 

“How exactly is that supposed to make me feel better?” Roger asked. 

He shrugged. “Just saying, it could’ve been worse.” 

“Yes Percy, because that’s exactly what you want to hear after you’ve been punched in the face,” Bollard said sarcastically. 

“You know what would _really_ make you feel better?” Nora asked. 

“What?” Roger got the feeling he wouldn’t like the answer. 

“Egging Polaris with us. They’re stealing half your customers, aren’t they?” Yep, terrible answer, as expected. 

But Nora was right. Polaris, a new bar down the street, had been stealing away more and more customers recently. It had been a struggle to keep up with them, made only more aggravating by the fact that the owners of Polaris were giant assholes. He was pretty sure that he’d caught one of them trying to smash one of The Bridge’s pipes the other day, but she had run off before he caught a good look at her face. 

“I think I’ll pass, thanks.” 

“I’m surprised you’re egging the place,” Etta said. “What happened to eggs being “precious baby animals that we need to protect and not eat?”” 

“Oh, we’re not using chicken eggs,” Nora said. “We’re using vegan eggs.” 

“Much better for you,” Percy added. “You should really consider making the switch.” 

“Aren’t vegan eggs more expensive than regular eggs?” Kate asked. “Why are you just throwing away money like that?” 

“It’s worth it,” Percy said. “The assholes that run that place refuse to serve vegan food. We’re going to show them how wrong they are.” 

Etta muttered something about assholes under her breath while Roger pointed at her and Kate. “We heard nothing about this plan. Got it?” 

“Sure thing,” Kate said. “Yvette’s waiting for you in the back, by the way. Something about the shifts for next week.” 

“And you waited until now to tell me?” 

She shrugged. “I forgot.” 

Roger rolled his eyes but headed into the backroom of the bar. There was no sign of Yvette, but Bertie was there washing the same plate over and over again. He nearly jumped out of his skin when Roger came in. 

“Oh good, it’s only you,” he said. 

“I take it you’re hiding from Bollard?” 

Bertie set the plate on the drying rack. “Yeah.” 

“How long have you been back here?” 

“About thirty minutes. I’ve been cleaning up though,” he added quickly. “Washing the dishes from the afternoon, making sure the fridges are fully stocked.” 

“Good.” Roger said. “You can stay back here if you need to then. Just keep busy, alright?” 

Bertie beamed. “Sure thing, boss.” 

Roger felt his cheeks warm up. “Yeah, no problem.” 

“You doing alright?” Bertie asked. “You look pretty tired.” 

He groaned and ran a hand through his hair. “Yeah, I’m fine. Just didn’t get much sleep last night.” 

“Yeah? What happened?” Bertie said, concerned. 

“I was woken up at 5:30 this morning by an asshole revving his motorcycle in the parking lot. It went on for about ten minutes. He does it every few days, it’s the worst.” 

“Can’t you file a noise complaint?” 

“Against who?” 

“That jerk with a motorcycle who’s determined to destroy the environment by running his engine unnecessarily long?” 

Roger snorted. “Yeah, I’ll see if he’s a tenant.” 

“But you worked until two last night, didn’t you? So why didn’t you just go back to sleep and sleep in later?” 

“I tried. But then the kid down the hall decided to throw a tantrum before daycare. He screamed for twenty minutes straight. Not words. Just yelling.” 

Bertie laughed. “Aww, Roger. That’s so sad.” 

“No, sad would’ve been if I had gone through with my half-asleep thoughts of murder,” he grumbled. 

“Man, you are grouchy when you’re tired,” Bertie said. “It’s kind of-“ 

Roger leaned against the fridge, trying not to fall asleep. “Kind of what?” 

Bertie shook his head. “It’s nothing. Was the kid really that loud?” 

“I think half the building was banging on their floors or ceilings. I’m surprised no one called the landlord.” 

“They probably felt bad for the parents. It can’t be easy dealing with a screaming toddler.” 

“Oh, I can think of a way to deal _and_ shut the kid up.” 

“You can’t murder your neighbours, Roger.” 

Roger let out a short laugh. “Actually I was thinking about alcohol.” 

“Oh, good,” Bertie said with a sigh of relief. 

“That wasn’t even the worst part,” he said. 

“It gets worse than a screaming toddler and a jerk biker?” 

“Definitely more annoying.” 

“I’ve told you about my upstairs neighbours, yeah?” 

“The ones who throw stuff onto your balcony? Yeah.” Bertie paused before looking over at him. “Are you sure that everyone in your apartment building isn’t insane?” 

“Not even remotely. And I’m including myself in that statement.” 

“I think you’re sane.” 

“I still work here, don’t I?” Roger said. 

Bertie frowned. “You don’t really mean that, do you?” 

“Bertie, look around,” he said. “Our main customers are the local ex-fratboy and a band of over-the-top animal rights activists who believe that cats should get to vote. I’m pretty sure Kate’s killed somebody before. Etta spends half her time talking to the goldfish. And I still don’t know the owner’s real name.” 

“You didn’t include me in that description.” 

“Did you really want to be?” 

Bertie flinched slightly and turned back to the dishes. He didn’t say anything else for a long while and Roger began wondering if he should just go see what Yvette wanted. And then, finally- 

“So what did your upstairs neighbours do today?” 

Changing the topic. That was never a good sign with Bertie. “Oh, well they have a dog I think? It runs around a lot when they’re not home, I think it must be a retriever or something because the thumping is super loud. It was going crazy all afternoon.” 

“So basically you were already done with today before you saw Nora out there?” 

“Exactly.” 

Bertie laughed softly. “Did she apologize at least?” 

Roger hummed. “Not exactly.” 

“How much not exactly?” 

“Around the zero apology mark.” 

He laughed softly again and Roger felt his stomach do a flip. Bertie’s laughter was quite possibly the cutest thing to ever exist. “I should probably let you get back to work, huh?” 

Bertie grinned at him. “Yeah. My supervisor hates it when I’m talking instead of working. It makes him get all grumpy which makes his eyebrows go all weird.” 

Roger rolled his eyes and headed towards the office. He paused outside the door and turned to look back at Bertie. “Did you really want to know what you would be in that description?” he asked. 

Bertie looked up and studied him carefully for a minute. “Yes,” he said finally. Steadily. 

“You would be the one who must be completely messed up to work here because you’re smart enough and good enough to be working anywhere else. I don’t know why the hell you’re here, but you shouldn’t be.” 

Bertie blinked at him, stunned, and Roger went into the office before he got a chance to reply.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As per usual, you can hit me up on tumblr @pillowcreeks my inbox is always open for requests and/or commissions


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kate is a tired lesbian.

Kate hated working security for The Hunt Club. For one thing, the owners were giant assholes, so she spent most of her time there hoping that she’d get sent home early. The only reason she even kept the job was for the cash. For a second thing, it was a club. Unlike The Bridge, which was usually on the quieter side, The Hunt Club was filled with rowdy drunks nearly every night of the week. And it certainly wasn’t short on drunk assholes who didn’t understand that number one, she was on the job and couldn’t go home with them right now, and number two, she was a lesbian. 

“As in, not into men,” she said as patiently as she could to the guy currently hitting on her. He looked like he was probably around Etta’s age, a grad student trying to let loose for a night and take a break from the stress of endless papers. Now if it had been Etta, she might have been interested. But this guy? 

She’d pass, thanks. 

“Aw come on, baby. How do you know if you’ve never tried?” he placed his hand on the wall next to her. “Have you ever even seen a dick? It’d switch you over instantly.” 

“Okay, you need to leave bud,” Kate said, reaching up and removing his hand. “Just give up while you’re ahead.” 

“Oh, so I’m convincing you. See, I told you you’d come around. Now why don’t you come back to my place and we can-“ 

“Buddy,” Kate said sharply. “I am not kidding around. You really need to quit now.” 

“Why? Scared of your feelings?” 

“No, because if you keep going I’m going to have to kick you out. And I think that’d be a lot more embarrassing for you than being shot down.” 

The student grumbled but took a step back. “Fine. But I’ll be over in the corner booth if you change your mind.” 

“I won’t,” Kate said as he walked off. 

She sighed and leaned back against the wall. Sadly, that wouldn’t be the last time she’d get hit on tonight. You’d think that they would pick the tipsy girls who were there to hook up over the tough looking security guard standing off to the side, but drunk men always managed to surprise her. 

“Kate?” She barely heard the startled voice over the thump of the music. When she looked in the direction it came from, she was met with a familiar face. 

“Etta? What are you doing here?” The Hunt Club wasn’t exactly the place that Kate pictured her hanging out. Not that Kate ever thought about what Etta did in her spare time. And she certainly never thought about it to try and come up with a good date idea. 

Etta laughed. “I know right? It’s my roommate’s birthday and I made the mistake of letting her pick the bar. Never doing that again; I think I’ve had about five different guys grab my ass already and we’ve only been here ten minutes.” 

Kate scowled. “Which guys? I can deal with them.” 

“Nah, it’s fine. Wel dealt with them pretty quickly,” Etta chuckled. “I forgot how incredibly terrifying she can be sometimes.” 

Kate relaxed slightly and allowed herself to discreetly check Etta out. She looked so different from how she usually did at work. Normally she had her hair tied back and was dressed all in black as instructed by The Bridge’s dress code. Now her dark curls fell loose around her shoulders and she was dressed in black skinny jeans and a loose gray shirt. Not to mention that she looked a lot less tired than usual. Etta was practically glowing right now. 

She was breathtaking at work. Now, it was as though Kate had never known air at all. Etta had stolen away every breath she had ever breathed and every breath she ever would. 

“So what are you doing here then?” Etta asked. “Is this one of your other security jobs?” 

Kate snapped out of it. “Oh, yeah. I work here a few nights a week along with the weekend Bridge shifts. All in all it’s _way_ too much Frank.” 

Etta raised her eyebrows. “Frank comes here?” 

“Sometimes, yeah. His friends are terrible, be glad he comes to the bar on his own,” she said.  

“I’d be much happier if he never came to the bar, but at least we have that small, small mercy.” 

“Trust me, it’s a large mercy.” 

Etta winced. “That bad, huh?” 

“They’re terrible. I’m pretty sure at least one of them’s a Republican.” 

“Oh geez,” she considered that for a minute. “You know, as fratboy-y as Frank is, I never imagined him hanging out with Republicans.” 

“I know, he gets along with Bertie too well for that.” 

“But does he know that Bertie’s trans?” Etta asked. 

“Mm, good point.” 

Etta leaned against the wall next to her. “So what’s the life of a security guard like? I feel like we only ever talk about my job.” 

Kate shrugged. “It’s not that interesting most of the time. I mostly just stand here looking intimidating until a fight breaks out or I need to kick somebody out. Not really the most exciting job.” 

“But you do it so well!” Etta said. 

“You only say that because you look like a baby bear when you try to look angry.” 

“I do not!” 

“No, you’re right. It’s really more of a chihuahua.” 

Etta gasped, offended. “I do not look like a chihuahua! Chihuahuas pee on everything and yap shrilly whenever something moves!” 

Kate shrugged, trying not to laugh. “Just calling it as I see it.” 

“Well clearly you need to get new contacts.” 

“Ha! My eyesight’s 20/20 and you know it.” 

Etta pouted and Kate pushed aside the urge to kiss her. One day. One day that would happen. But not tonight. 

“Shouldn’t you be getting back to your roommate?” she said instead. 

“Are you trying to get rid of me?” Etta asked, grinning wryly. 

“Not yet.” 

She laughed loudly. “Yet! Okay, fine, I see how it is. If you must know, my roommate’s currently dancing with her boyfriend. I’ve probably got at least ten more minutes before they go back to the booth.” 

“Well then I guess we should make the most of those ten minutes then, huh?” Kate said. 

“Guess so,” Etta sighed and bounced against the wall slightly. “Too bad you’re working tonight. You still owe me that drink.” 

“That’s right, I do.” Kate silently cursed herself. And she had just been thinking about this earlier, too! “How late are you guys planning on staying out?” 

Etta considered it. “Probably not that late. I’ve got class tomorrow morning.” 

“And you’re still drinking anyways?” 

She grinned up at Kate. “I’m in college. I’m allowed to make stupid decisions.” 

“Etta. Class while hungover is _not_ fun. Trust me.” 

“I know, I know, but this is the only night in weeks that I have free. I’m constantly working.” 

Kate frowned. “You’ve been giving yourself breaks though, right?” 

“As much as I can. Between grad school, work and depression, I’ve got enough balls in the air. Taking my eyes off them at this point doesn’t really sound like the best idea.” 

“Etta. Look at me.” Etta looked over at her and Kate swallowed hard. She’d forgotten just how _brown_ Etta’s eyes were. “You need to give yourself a break every once in a while. It’s not healthy to just work and not relax or have fun.” 

“This is my fun,” she said, gesturing at the club. “A night out with my roommate and her boyfriend. Plenty of fun to be had here.” 

“Etta. Please tell me this isn’t your first break in weeks.” The other woman stared down at her drink guiltily and Kate groaned. “Etta! You’re going to work yourself to death.” 

“I’m doing _fine,_ ” she said. “It’s not like I’m not getting any sleep. My depression takes care of that for me.” 

“Depression hitting you bad doesn’t count as a break.” 

“Why not? It’s not like I _do_ anything during that time. Isn’t that the same thing as a break?” 

“No! Depression hitting you badly is like… It’s like getting the flu. You still need to rest and recuperate from that,” Kate said. 

“Kate. If I don’t count that as a break, I won’t be able to get anything done,” Etta said, staring up at her seriously. 

“Then maybe you need to ask Roger if you can take less shifts.” 

“Then I’d get evicted,” Etta sighed. “Look. It’s not a big deal, okay? I’ll be done with my thesis in a few months, and then I won’t have to worry about it anymore. I can rest then.” 

“You won’t be able to rest if you overwork yourself in the meantime!” 

She groaned and buried her face in her hands. “Fine, I’ll try to take more breaks. Happy?” 

“Very.” 

“Good.” Etta pushed off of the wall. “I should probably get back to my table. They’ll be coming looking for me soon.” 

“Of course,” Kate said. “I’ll see you at work this Friday?” 

Etta gave her a forced grin. “Definitely. Yay.” 

“Aw, cheer up. I heard Polaris is having some huge sale on cocktails, so it’ll probably be dead all night.” 

“You know those nights are the worst evenings. Time just drags on and on.” 

“You can spend all your time with Bob though,” Kate pointed out. 

“True,” Etta said, grinning. It was a real grin this time, and Kate thought that her heart might just burst from how adorable she was. “I’ll look forward to it then.” 

“You’d better,” Kate said. “I’m sure it’ll be a night to remember.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hit me up on tumblr @pillowcreeks where I take requests and commissions.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Drinking on the job is allowed. Right?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am sooo excited to finally be able to share this chapter with you folks! I've had this planned since I came up with the idea for the story, so it was really great to finally be able to write it. 
> 
> This also signals the last few chapters of the story as things begin wrapping up and coming to a close. There's maybe three or four chapters left after this one? So we're almost there folks! Almost... 
> 
> Hope you enjoy!

The bar was dead. 

That wasn’t an exaggeration. No one had been all evening. Bertie and Etta had long since finished cleaning every table, all the dishes were done, and the fridges were fully stocked. Etta had gone over to talk to Bob, while Bertie and Kate sat down at one of the tables to play cards. 

Kate dealt out the cards. “You know how to play Spit?” she asked. 

“Sure,” Bertie said. “But isn’t that a little… I dunno, loud, for the bar?” 

“Bertie, look around,” she said. “No one’s been in here for hours. I doubt we’re going to get anyone and even if we do, I don’t think they’ll be too fussed that we’re slapping the table when they come in.” 

He gave her a nervous smile. “Good point.” 

“There you go. Come on now, let’s see if you can beat me.” 

“If? I’m pretty sure I’m going to kick your ass.” 

“Please,” she scoffed. 

Five minutes later, Bertie sighed as Kate slapped her hand on the surface of the table. “Spit!” 

“You win. Again.” 

Kate laughed. “I told you I would beat you.” 

“I didn’t even win a single round! You’ve got to be cheating.” 

“Hey, nobody likes a sore loser.” 

“I’m not a sore loser,” Bertie said, shuffling the deck. “I’m about to be a very sore winner though.” 

“Bertie, I’ve beat you twice in five minutes. Do you _really_ think you’re about to get lucky?” Kate said. 

“Maybe,” he said, dealing out the cards. “There’s a chance.” 

“Your optimism astounds me,” she said, taking her half of the deck. 

They began setting up their rows as Roger walked out from the back of the bar. He stopped and stared at them. 

“What are you doing?” he asked. 

“Playing cards,” Kate said. “If you want to join in, we can play Cheat next round.” 

“You’re playing cards,” Roger said carefully. 

“Yes,” Kate said. “What? Haven’t you ever played cards before?” 

“You’re at _work._ ” 

“Well, there isn’t much work to be done right now,” she said. “Hard to break up bar fights when there’s no one in the bar.” 

“I can punch Roger if you need something to do,” Etta piped up from next to the aquarium. 

“ _No_ thank you Etta,” Roger said quickly. “I don’t think that’s the problem here.” 

Kate sighed and set down her deck. “Roger, look. Polaris is getting all the customers tonight. If someone comes in, we’ll get to work. But until then, there’s no point just sitting around waiting for our shift to end. We might as well be doing something in the meantime.” 

Roger huffed and sat down next to her. “Fine. But we’re getting back to work as soon as a customer comes in.” 

Bertie grinned at him. “We?” 

“I… might have already finished most of my work and be going slightly insane in the back,” he admitted. 

“You know it’s bad when even Roger doesn’t want to do any work,” Etta said, coming over to sit down at the table. 

Roger rolled his eyes but didn’t respond. 

“Wanna switch over to Cheat then?” Kate asked. 

“Sure,” Bertie said. He handed his half of the deck to her. 

Kate shuffled the cards before dealing them out to the table, each player getting a quarter of the deck. Bertie struggled to hold onto all of his cards. He’d always done terribly in games like this since he usually ended up accidentally showing his cards to the rest of the table at one point or another. 

Half an hour later, they were beginning to get tired of Cheat. Well, Kate, Etta and Bertie were at least. Roger seemed perfectly happy to continue kicking their asses for the rest of the night. 

“How about Hearts?” Etta suggested. 

“Too complicated,” Bertie said. 

“Blackjack?” Kate said. 

“Ugh no,” Etta said.

“Okay, Go Fish?” 

They all shrugged so Kate began dealing out the cards. “Should we make this more interesting?” she asked. 

Etta grinned slowly. “How do you mean?” 

Kate glanced over at the bar meaningfully. 

“Oh no,” Roger said.

“Why not?” she said. “We literally work at a bar. This may be our only chance to drink on the job and not get in trouble for it.” 

“Really? You really want to do that?” 

“Sure. Besides, it’s not like anyone’s likely to come in tonight anyways. It’s after midnight; no one comes out drinking this late. And Polaris’ll be keeping everyone there with their great deal. Plus none of us work tomorrow: it’s the perfect time to drink way too much together.” 

Roger still looked pretty hesitant so Bertie took the chance to speak up. “Come on, it’ll be fun.” 

He scoffed. “Fun?” 

“What? Scared to have a little fun?” Etta taunted. 

Roger raised his eyebrows at her before getting up and walking over to the bar. Bertie shot Etta a despairing look - there was no way Roger would let them continue to slack off now - but she wasn’t looking at him. Instead, she was watching Roger as he picked up a half full bottle of vodka from behind the bar, unscrewed the top and drank it dry, holding eye contact with Etta the entire time. 

“Well, I wasn’t expecting that,” Kate said. Bertie could only stare at him in shock. 

Roger shrugged as he lowered the bottle. It didn’t seem to have effected him at all. “Go big or go home, right?” 

Etta whooped. “That’s the spirit!” she said as she went to join him behind the bar.

“This isn’t going to end well, is it?” Bertie said to Kate. 

She winked at him. “That’s what makes it fun.” 

“Hey Kate, what alcohol did you want for this?” Roger called from the bar. 

“Let’s stick with beer for right now,” Kate replied. “Slower route to alcohol poisoning than taking shots.” 

He gave her a thumbs up. A couple of minutes later, they returned to the table and handed beers to the others. 

“So, how’s this gonna work?” Etta asked. 

“Take a drink every time you have to go fish,” Kate said. “First to run out of beer has to take a shot.” 

“Isn’t there some saying about mixing liquor and beer?” Bertie said hesitantly. 

“Yeah, but that’s mostly just bullshit. It’s like that thing about washing your hands between drinks.” Kate said. “Come on Bertie, you’re a bartender.” 

“I heard it helped with hangovers though,” Etta said. “Like you feel better the next day if you don’t change what you’re drinking?” 

“Maybe,” Kate said with a shrug. “It won’t kill you to have both though.” 

Etta and Bertie looked over at each other and shrugged before taking their hands.

* * *

 An hour later the cards were abandoned in favour of just drinking and talking. Most of them were already well on their way to drunk, with Roger long since there, pushed ahead by the extra half bottle of vodka that he had consumed. Kate was the only one who seemed anywhere close to sober, though she was definitely tipsy. 

“So then I said to her, “That’s why you’ve gotta brake! Deer weigh a fuckton!”” she said loudly and the others all burst into laughter. 

“Maybe we all need to just… brake…” Bertie said slowly. “Cause like… life weighs a fuckton. Y’know?” 

“You know what else weighs a fuckton? That bag of jalapeno poppers we’ve got in the back,” Etta said, hopping to her feet. “I wonder how many of those I can fit in a fryer at once.” 

“You promised you wouldn’t mention the cheese again!” Bertie moaned as Kate chased after Etta to the kitchen. 

“Etta, you’re too drunk to be playing with hot oil!” he heard her yell. 

“But maybe that’s the best time to play with oil,” Bertie whispered. “Because you don’t know how hot it is? So you can just like… appreciate the bubbles.” 

Roger burst out laughing, the sound filling up the empty bar. “You’re funny.” 

Bertie grinned at him lopsidedly. “You never like my jokes.” 

“What? I love your jokes! I don’t _say_ it, but I do.” 

“You should say it more often. I like it when you laugh. It’s like… I don’t know what it’s like. It’s deep. Nice.” 

Roger hummed happily. “I’ll keep that in mind then.” 

“You’re not as mean as you act. You’re soft. Like a marshmallow. Like a… Like a… A…” Bertie paused, trying to think up a marshmallow pun that worked with Roger’s name. “I dunno. But like a burnt one? Like you’re all crispy on the outside but all soft and gooey on the inside.” 

“The soft and gooey stuff is called guts.” 

He whined. “Roger! Now I can’t eat marshmallows _or_ cheese now! That’s like, half the good food groups.” 

Roger laughed again. “Those aren’t the food groups!” 

“Well they should be. They’re way better than asparagus or whatever the real food groups are. The food groups should be marshmallows, cheese, chocolate, and pasta. But Etta ruined one of those and you ruined the other. So now I’ve gotta rethink them.” 

“How about ice cream?” 

“Ooo yeah! And then you get something cold to go with pasta’s hot side. It’s gotta be even, you know.” 

“Mm, of course.” Roger was grinning and Bertie wondered if he had always been that cute or if it was just something that happened when he was drunk. “Then what goes with chocolate?” 

“Hm… Pizza.” 

Roger laughed. “Pizza? Really?” 

“Mmhm. It’s melty like chocolate, but not as sweet,” Bertie said with a lopsided grin, his stomach doing flips. But not the usual drunken flips that warned of imminent vomit. Nice flips. Like… He was too drunk to figure out what they were like. Gymnasts? 

“Sounds about right then.” 

The girls returned from the kitchen just then, Etta carrying a plate of slightly burnt jalapeno poppers. Bertie groaned and buried his head in his arms. “Not the cheese…” 

“You were cleaning up nachos, I don’t get your problem with the poppers…” Etta muttered. 

“It’s all cheese, Etta,” Bertie muttered into the table. “Cheese is cheese is cheese is cheese is cheese is-“

“Bertie?” Kate said. 

“Yeah?” 

“Shut up.” 

He made a vague attempt at a whining noise. “Cheese is the devil.” 

“That’s not shutting up.” 

Bertie sunk lower in his seat. “You’re mean when you’re drunk.” 

“Just for that Kate, you get one of my poppers,” Etta said, holding the plate out to the other woman. 

“Sweet, thanks.” 

Roger was watching Kate. “Have you ever killed someone before?” he said abruptly. 

Kate raised her eyebrows. “Really? Okay, you are officially drunk off your ass and need to go home.” She looked over at Bertie. “Do you mind taking care of him? I’ll close up and then take Etta home.” 

“Sure. I’m getting pretty tired too,” Bertie said, trying not to yawn. He considered that statement for a moment before saying, “Do you think they call it tired because it feels like you were just run over by a bus and now have tire imprints all over your body?” 

Kate rolled her eyes and shoved him to his feet. “Go. And try not to get yourselves killed on the way home.” 

Bertie gave her a mock salute. “No promises.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tag me in your Bridge posts on tumblr @pillowcreeks


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bertie comes to a startling realization.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So originally I was going to put both sides of the drunken aftermath in the same chapter, but it would have turned out about three times as long as the typical chapter, so in the name of consistency I've decided to break them up. This chapter's still longer than usual though! 
> 
> Another minor warning for emetophobia.

Roger was very drunk. And one thing that Bertie was quickly learning about drunk Roger was that he was very affectionate. Like, incredibly affectionate. 

They were currently sitting in the back of the bus, Roger’s head resting on Bertie’s shoulder. He was mumbling something under his breath but Bertie couldn’t quite make out what he was saying. Instead he focused on watching the rest of the bus for any passengers that seemed suspicious. He was still pretty anxious taking the bus so late at night, even after a couple years of working the night shift. Having another man resting his head on his shoulder only made him more anxious, but Bertie couldn’t bring himself to ask Roger to move. 

Their stop came up and Bertie shrugged him off. “Time to go.” 

Roger blinked at him, confused. “Go where?” 

Bertie rolled his eyes and pulled the bell. “You really are drunk.” 

“Is that a bad thing?” 

“Hm. Not really. Just funny.” 

Roger grinned. “Good. I like making you happy.” 

Bertie felt a flush creep up his neck. He nudged Roger out of the seat. “Come on, we have to go.” 

The two of them got off the bus and began walking towards Roger’s apartment building. After about a minute or so, Roger grabbed hold of Bertie’s arm and clung tightly to it, his head finding its way back to its resting place on Bertie’s shoulder. 

“You’re tall,” he heard him mumble. 

Bertie smiled slightly. “You’re just short.” 

“Excuse you, I am a perfectly reasonable height,” Roger replied before bursting into laughter again. 

Bertie grinned, feeling his stomach do those pesky flips again at the sound of Roger’s laugh. “What?” 

“I don’t know!” Roger said with a slight laugh. “I’m just so happy!” 

Bertie snorted as he opened the door to the building. “You are so fucking drunk. Come on, get your key out.” 

Roger searched through his pockets for his keys, humming slightly as he did so. “I don’t know why you keep mentioning how drunk I am. You drank a lot too. We all did.” 

“Roger, you chugged half a bottle of vodka just to prove a point to Etta. Nobody drank as much as you did.” 

Roger hummed happily again before pressing his chip to the pad. The door clicked unlocked and they went through to the lobby. 

Bertie’s stomach twisted into knots. While he wanted nothing more than to go home and sleep, he also didn’t really want to leave Roger. He was a lot more open when he was drunk, the total opposite of his sober self, and it was interesting to watch. 

It was also ridiculously adorable and was stirring up feelings in Bertie that he hadn’t felt in a long time. He was curious to see where they would go but also more than a little terrified. He had thought that he had felt them last week but he hadn’t been certain. He had pushed the thought aside and figured that he would deal with it later: if it was even an issue at all. 

Well, it looked like tonight was later. And the verdict was: feelings were probably there. Most likely. 

But maybe it was just the alcohol talking. Maybe tomorrow, when they were both sober and back to normal, the feelings would be gone. Or maybe the feelings were only there because Roger was drunk off his ass and that was making him happier and more friendly and not his usual self. And while Bertie really liked his usual self, maybe he didn’t love it. 

Or maybe he did. Because it had been his usual self that he had first thought was cute and had briefly thought about kissing, even just once. Just to see what it would feel like. 

It was a very confusing elevator ride, full of plenty of emotional turmoil. Bertie only snapped out of his thoughts briefly to stop Roger from pressing the buttons for every floor. 

Roger leaned against the door to his apartment. “There. Now you can tell Kate that you delivered me home safe and sound.” 

Bertie smiled and leaned against the wall. “I guess so. You going to be alright from here?” 

“Bertie, I’m not a child.” Some of the sharpness of sober Roger leaked through and Bertie’s stomach did a flip. “You don’t have to worry about me.” 

“I know, just… You did have a lot to drink. I want to make sure you’re going to be okay.” 

Roger smiled up at him, his eyes softer than they usually were. “You’re so caring…” he murmured. 

Bertie’s heart thumped louder in his chest. “I try.” 

“You succeed. A lot. It’s really unfairly cute.” 

Oh fuck, he looked so gentle right now. It was so strange, Roger never looked anything but perpetually grumpy but right now he looked so soft, like a cloud. Like a really cuddly teddy bear. 

“You’re like a teddy bear,” Bertie blurted out. 

Roger laughed and the sound echoed in the empty hallway. “First a marshmallow and now a teddy bear! Apparently I’m soft when I’m drunk.” 

“You are. I like it. It’s… It’s…” He wants to say it so badly. He wants to tell Roger just how cute he was when he was drunk, how cute he seemed to be all the time. It was unfair. It was so unfair. 

But he couldn’t bring himself to say it. Because that would make everything real. And you can’t take back reality. You didn’t get to start over. You didn’t get to stop it. And what if that new reality was a mistake? What if it ended badly? What if it ended in yet another fiery inferno that would send him spiralling again? 

He wasn’t sure if he could take that. 

Roger stood up on his tiptoes and gently kissed Bertie’s forehead. “You’re soft too.” 

Bertie felt a hot blush spread across his cheeks. “I am?” 

“Mm. If anyone’s the marshmallow, it’s you.” Roger’s smiling up at him like he just sprouted wings and flew. Like he was the most incredible thing in the universe. 

Bertie couldn’t help the dorky grin that spread across his face. “Thanks.” 

“Anytime Bertie.” He said his name like it was a promise. Bertie wanted nothing more than to press him up against the door and kiss that damn smile away. 

Roger’s eyes widened suddenly and he quickly opened the door to his apartment. “I gotta…” he mumbled as he practically fell through the doorway. 

“Roger?!” Bertie said, startled, as he disappeared down the hallway in his apartment. He hesitated before following, locking the door behind him. 

He found Roger in the bathroom, throwing up. Bertie cringed. “Maybe chugging straight vodka wasn’t the _best_ idea,” he said. 

Roger groaned as he flushed the toilet. “You think?” 

“I’ll grab you some water.” 

He returned a minute later with a glass of water. Roger was sitting against the bathtub, his forehead resting against his knees. He looked up when Bertie came in. 

“I’m sorry,” he said, his eyes sad and his mouth twisted in a frown again.

Bertie sat down next to him and handed him the glass. “What for?” 

“Being stupid. Making you have to look after me.” 

Bertie shook his head. “It’s not a problem. You look after me all the time at work; I owe you one.” 

Roger still looked unsure. “But I want to look after you. I want to take care of you.” 

“Hey Roger?” He looked over at Bertie, who was smiling gently. “I want to look after you too.” 

“Not in the way you do it though. You look after everybody. You just… You love everybody you meet, even Frank. I think there’s even a part of you that cares about Poseidon. I’m not like that. I want to look after you because you’re _you._ Because you’re…” Roger’s eyebrows furrowed as he tried to think of what he wanted to say. 

“Different?” 

“I guess. I just…” He closed his eyes. “I really care about you, alright?” 

Bertie felt that same urge to kiss him come back full force but he pushed it down. This wasn’t a good time for so many reasons. Number one being the glaring issue of consent. Even through the haze of alcohol Bertie knew that you didn’t kiss a drunk person. 

There was also the small matter that Roger would probably taste very strongly of vomit right now. 

“Drink your water,” he said instead. 

Roger opened his eyes. “What?” 

“Your water,” Bertie said. “You should drink it.” 

“Bertie, I-“ 

“I know,” he said quickly. “But we shouldn’t talk about this right now. You’re really drunk and are probably going to forget all of this by the morning - I don’t even know if _I’ll_ remember this tomorrow - and I don’t want you to say anything you’d regret. Or something you wouldn’t want to say if you were sober. You also just threw up so you should really drink some water.” 

Roger stared at him for a moment before groaning and resting his forehead softly against Bertie’s shoulder. “Damn, you’re right.” 

“It happens sometimes. Now drink your water.” 

A few minutes later Bertie was gently leading Roger to his bedroom by the hand. He had managed to get him to drink the entire glass of water and brush his teeth without throwing up again. Now it was just a matter of getting him changed out of his work clothes and into bed. 

“You get changed into your pyjamas and I’ll grab you some more water, okay?” he said. 

Roger stared at him for a moment, not seeming to have heard the statement. Bertie gently rested a hand on his cheek. “Roger? Can you hear me?” 

Roger blinked a few times, seemingly snapping out of it. “Hm?” 

Bertie laughed softly and Roger grinned. “You have such a pretty laugh. It’s very distracting. You’re just really distracting in general.” 

Bertie blushed again. He seemed to be doing a lot of that this evening. “Pyjamas. I’ll grab you some water.” 

Roger hummed happily. “Alright,” he said before pulling off his shirt. 

“Whoa, once I’ve left the room!” Bertie said, tossing him his shirt as he began undoing his pants. “Geez, how drunk are you?” 

Roger shrugged. “Probably _really_ drunk.” 

Bertie groaned as he left the room. “Who knew you would be such a handful when you’re drunk?” 

By the time he returned with a fresh glass of water and a bottle of Advil, Roger had changed into his pyjamas and was sitting patiently on the edge of his bed. His face lit up when Bertie came in. 

Bertie’s heart skipped a beat when he saw him. Roger looked so… adorable? He hadn’t known that was even a thing that Roger could be. But seeing him sitting there in plaid pyjama bottoms, a black t-shirt and bare feet, that was the only word that came to mind. 

_Adorable. Roger Kaplan was absolutely adorable._

And that pesky urge to kiss the daylights out of him was back again. Damn, who knew Bertie was a horny drunk? 

“I brought you some more water. And some Advil for tomorrow morning. You’re going to have a killer hangover,” he said, placing both items on the bedside table. 

Roger was still smiling at him like he had hung the stars. “You’re so sweet.” 

“I’m just looking after you.” Bertie ran a hand gently through Roger’s hair and he leaned into his touch. “Are you going to be okay on your own? I can stay if you want me to.” 

He hummed happily. “I’ll be fine. You’ve taken such good care of me.” 

Bertie smiled. “You’d do the same for me.” 

“I’d do anything for you.” 

Bertie sucked in a quick breath and bit his lip, taking a step back. “Don’t say stuff like that.” 

Roger stared up at him in confusion. “Why not? It’s true.” 

“Because you’re drunk and you don’t know what you’re saying. You might regret it tomorrow and I don’t want you to have that weighing on you.” 

“Then why did you offer to stay?” 

“Because you’re still drunk and will probably throw up again sometime tonight. Speaking of which…” Bertie grabbed the garbage can that was in the bedroom and placed it next to Roger’s bed. “For the inevitable.” 

Roger wrinkled his nose. “I really don’t want to throw up again.” 

“Then next time you shouldn’t chug half a bottle of vodka before drinking even more. You make terrible decisions sometimes.” 

He scoffed. “Not as often as you and Etta.” 

“Which is precisely why I’m not letting you make anymore tonight. Get some rest, okay? I’ll call you tomorrow.” 

“Mmkay.” Roger climbed into bed and curled up under the covers. 

Bertie was about to leave the apartment when he realized one significant problem. He returned quickly to the bedroom. “I don’t have a way to lock up.” 

Roger waved his hand vaguely. “My key’s in my pants. Just take it and bring it back tomorrow.” 

“You sure?” 

He lifted himself up onto one arm so that he could smile at Bertie. “Positive.” 

Bertie ignored the thought that he would wage war on entire civilizations for that smile and instead grabbed the key from Roger’s pants. He then had to ignore the part of his brain that thinks it’s funny that he still managed to get in Roger’s pants tonight. 

His brain was not being very helpful tonight. 

“I’ll see you tomorrow then.” 

“Hm. I look forward to it.” 

Bertie snorted. “I doubt you’ll remember to.” 

Roger smirked at him and Bertie nearly died. “If it’s a chance to see you? I’ll remember.” 

He rolled his eyes. “Good night, Roger.” 

Later in the elevator Bertie buried his face in his hands and let out a muffled scream. _What the hell am I supposed to do now?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm on tumblr @pillowcreeks


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kate and Etta have an important discussion.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the wait on this chapter, I lost my ability to write Kate this month and had to throw a funeral for it. 
> 
> Only two chapters left after this one!

The door to the bar closed behind Bertie and Etta practically launched herself across the room. “Okay let’s go have some fun now!” 

Kate laughed and grabbed her arm. “Relax, we’ve got to get the bar closed up first. And then we’re going straight home.” 

Etta pouted. “That’s no fun. I wanna do something fun.” 

“But isn’t sleeping really fun?” 

“Ooo, that’s true…” 

“That’s the spirit.” Kate went to close up the register. “Do you mind cleaning up the back?” 

Etta whined and lay down in one of the booths. “But Bertie already did that earlier!” 

“But then you went and made jalapeño poppers and a giant mess.” 

Etta whined louder. 

“Come on Etta. The faster it gets done the faster you get to sleep,” Kate said, trying to make the task sound appealing. 

“Can’t you do it? You’re closer.” 

“I’m doing the register.” 

“I’ll do that then.” 

“What’s two plus two?” 

Etta groaned. Her brain was too fuzzy for math right now. “I dunno, fifteen?” 

“Yeah, you’re too drunk for this.” 

“I’m not drunk. I’m just… tipsy.” 

“That’s exactly what a drunk person would say,” Kate said. 

Etta rolled her eyes and sat up. “Can’t we just leave the mess for tomorrow’s shift?” 

“Sure, if you want to get fired.” 

Etta sighed and wandered off to the back of the bar. It wasn’t as bad as Kate had made it seem - most of the mess could just be swept up - but it still took her a few minutes to get it cleaned up. 

When she made it back out to the bar, Kate was just finishing up with closing the register. Etta hopped onto the bar next to her. “How’s it going?” 

“Good. I made sure to pay for what we drank,” Kate said. 

“Oh shit, I forgot about that.” 

“That’s because you’re drunk.” 

“Hm, I dunno. I think you’re just better at remembering stuff like that than I am.” 

Kate patted her leg. “Well I’m done here. You ready to go?” 

“Yep!”

* * *

By the time they made it to her apartment, Etta was feeling a lot more sober. Kate seemed to think so as well, as she’d mostly backed off since they had gotten off the bus. 

Etta unlocked the door. “Make sure Creamsicle doesn’t get out.” 

“Creamsi-“ Kate began to ask before a ball of ginger and white fur shot out from the apartment. Etta dove for her and missed, leaving Kate to chase the cat down the hallway. She returned with Creamsicle purring in her arms. 

“Nice heads-up on the cat,” Kate said, setting her down gently in the apartment once Etta had closed the door. 

“I did give you one,” Etta said. 

“One second before you opened the door.” She scratched Creamsicle behind the ears. “She’s pretty cute though.” 

“I know right?” Etta said as she hung up her jacket. “She’s absolutely adorable and lets me be the stereotypical queer girl that I truly am.” 

Kate laughed. “Were you having trouble accomplishing that goal before?” 

“No, I just like being able to check off as many boxes as possible.” 

“And what are the other boxes you’ve managed to check?” 

“Okay well obviously flannel.” 

“Duh, everybody checks that one off, even straight girls,” Kate said. 

“That’s because flannel is so cozy!” Etta said. “Okay let’s see what else… Converse. Lots of rainbows. I dyed my hair once.” 

“Really? What colour?” Kate asked. 

“Green. Just dip-dyed though. I wanted to get an undercut but I didn’t think it’d work so well with the curls,” she said, tugging on her hair resentfully. 

“Too bad. Having an undercut is amazing,” Kate said. 

“Wait, you had an undercut?” 

“Yeah. My cousin wanted one but didn’t want to get it alone.” 

Etta almost died. The mental image of Kate with an undercut was just too hot. “That’s hot,” she blurted out. 

Kate laughed. “Thanks. It wasn’t short though. I like my long hair too much for that.” 

“Your long hair _is_ pretty cute…” Etta bit her lip. She really needed to stop saying things without thinking. 

“It’s also very feminine. No chance of misgendering when you can just turn around and hit them with your hair.” 

“Or your fist.” 

Kate hummed thoughtfully. “True. Not always the safest option though.” 

“I’ll punch them in the face for you then.” 

“Etta…” 

“I know. But still.” She hesitated. “Speaking of which… Is it safe for you to go back out on your own? It’s getting pretty late.” 

“I do it every night.” 

“I know, but… Can’t you just stay here for tonight? I’d feel much better if I could know you were safe.” 

Kate gave her a small smile. “Yeah. Okay.” 

Etta felt herself relax instantly. “Great! I’ll get some blankets and a pillow for you then!” 

She went to her bedroom and grabbed the blankets that she kept in a drawer under her bed as well as a couple of the extra pillows that she kept on her bed. Hey, if she wanted to sleep on a cloud, that was her own damn business. 

She returned to the living room and tossed the pillows to Kate. “Think those’ll be soft enough?” 

Kate squeezed one of the pillows. Her eyes widened. “I think this is the softest thing I’ve ever felt.” 

“I know right? Now you know why I have so much trouble getting up in the mornings. Well, aside from the crippling depression,” Etta added as an afterthought as she threw the blankets over the couch. 

“How’s that been the last couple days?” 

“Better than usual. I got a ton of work done on my thesis yesterday. I’m somehow on track with a project for once? I don’t think this has ever happened before in my entire academic career.” 

Kate laughed. “And yet somehow you still get amazing grades by the sound of it.” 

“I’m just naturally talented. I also may have had to retake a year in undergrad and nearly died of stress.” Etta said this in a matter-of-fact way because to her that was what it was. It was just a fact of her life: depression hit hard and she had to retake a bunch of classes that she failed. But Kate looked at her like it wasn’t so simple. She walked over and hugged Etta tightly. 

“I’m sorry,” she said. 

“What for? You’re not my depression. Are you?” Etta gasped dramatically. “Have you secretly been a manifestation of my mental illness this entire time? I didn’t think you’d be so cute, but okay!” 

Kate laughed slightly. “No. I just feel bad that you have to deal with that. It doesn’t sound like a fun time.” 

“It wasn’t,” Etta said and left it at that. Kate didn’t need to know all the nitty gritty details. It wasn’t a year that Etta looked back on fondly and she was far from proud of it. But through sheer stubbornness (and some medication), she had managed to pull herself back on track. That was what mattered. Not the bad times. 

“But it’s better now, right?” 

“Yeah. Much. I haven’t been that sick in a long time.” 

Kate rested her chin on Etta’s shoulder. “Good. And you’ll let me know if it gets that bad again? I want to help you as much as I can.” 

Etta turned around so that she was face-to-face with Kate. “You’re so supportive about this. It’s…” 

Kate frowned. “Surprising?” 

“No. Just… incredible. You are so incredible.” 

“Yeah?” That got her smile back. 

“Yeah. I’m always amazed by you. You’re just…” Etta couldn’t think of the right words so she decided to just show Kate what she meant and kissed her. 

Much to her surprise and delight, Kate kissed her back. She tasted like alcohol but also faintly of cherries. Etta pressed up closer to her, trying to get more of the heat that was radiating off of her body, and was disappointed when Kate responded by pulling away. 

“Why’d you stop?” she asked, trying to keep the whine out of her voice. 

“We shouldn’t. Not now. We’ve both been drinking a lot.” 

“Yeah. You’re right. I just…” Etta sighed. “I would still want this, you know? Even if I was sober.” 

Kate smiled. “I know.” 

Etta gaped at her. “You _knew?!_ Why didn’t you say anything then?!” 

“I was going to, it was just… never really the right time. I kept meaning to but stuff kept coming up. 

“Still!” 

“As adorable as I find your pouty face, you have to admit that you could have also done something,” Kate said. 

“I didn’t know that you liked me!” Etta said. 

“And here I thought I couldn’t be more obvious. I guess it’s a good thing you kissed me then, isn’t it?” Kate said. 

Etta rested her head on her shoulder. “Guess so.” 

Kate gently stroked her hair. “You should go get some rest. We can talk about this in the morning.” 

Etta yawned. “Okay. You be alright out here on your own?” 

“Yeah. Does your roommate know I’m here?” 

“Wel’s spending the night at her boyfriend’s. She probably won’t be back until tomorrow afternoon.” 

“Alright. Goodnight then,” Kate said, kissing Etta’s forehead. 

“Night,” Etta said, kissing her cheek in return before stumbling off to bed. 

* * *

Etta woke up the next morning with a piercing headache. She groaned and hid her head under her pillow. She didn’t need to get up and do anything today, right? It was Saturday, she could just lie in bed and sleep the hangover away. 

But then the memory of the kiss the night before came crashing into her head like it was breaking down the door to her mind. She shot straight up in bed and cringed as her head cried out in protest. Kate. Kate was still out in her living room, waiting to have a discussion about what they were now. 

Etta groaned and crashed back down into her pillows. She didn’t want to have that discussion. Yeah, it might lead to a great place, but the discussion itself would be so painful and awkward. Maybe if she just hung out in her room for the entire day, Kate would just leave and they wouldn’t have to have it. 

_But then you’d just make things even more awkward the next time you see her,_ her brain kindly reminded her. 

She rolled over to check her phone for the time. Kate might not even be up yet, she might be able to put it off for a while longer… 

But it was almost ten o’clock. And if Etta knew Kate at all - and she liked to think that she did - she would probably be awake by now. Which meant that the discussion would definitely be happening in the next twenty minutes or so. 

Etta dragged herself out of bed with another groan. She got dressed slowly, trying to put off the inevitable for as long as possible. Her mouth tasted like ass and she wondered if Kate would be willing to let her brush her teeth first before beginning the torture. 

_Stop thinking of it as torture,_ she scolded herself. _It’s probably not going to be that bad; this is Kate we’re talking about. And at the end of it she might be your girlfriend._

She couldn’t help but smile at that thought. In half an hour, Kate could be her girlfriend. _She could be dating Kate._ It felt like a dream come true. 

She got dressed a lot faster after that. 

Etta went out to the living room. Kate was sitting on the couch, looking at something on her phone. She looked up and smiled when Etta came in. 

“Hey. How are you feeling this morning?” 

“My head feels like someone hit it with a baseball bat, but otherwise I’m great,” Etta said, continuing through to the kitchen to grab some Advil. “How about you?” 

“Not too bad.” There was a pause and then; “Have you thought about last night at all?” 

“A little bit. I mean, that kiss was pretty memorable.” 

“Thanks, I’m very proud of my kissing skills.” 

Etta laughed before taking the pill. “You should be,” she said once it was down. “Probably the best kiss I ever had, even with the alcohol taste.” 

“Eugh, yeah. Not to be rude, but I think I’ll pass on kissing you again this morning. My mouth tastes like stale alcohol.” 

“That’s even worse than fresh alcohol.” 

Kate laughed. 

Etta grinned and walked back into the living room. “Well I hope you won’t think that I’m rude if I go and get rid my own stale alcohol taste before we talk this through. Because unlike you, I actually do have a toothbrush here.” 

“Go ahead,” Kate said. 

When she got back from brushing her teeth, the mood in the air shifted. Before it was like their everyday vibe, playful with just an edge of flirting. Now it was awkward and uncomfortable, both of them not sure where they were supposed to look and settling on either the ceiling, in Kate’s case, or in Etta’s case, Creamsicle licking herself in the corner. 

“So…” Etta said slowly. “Where do we begin?” 

“I guess just where you want to go from here,” Kate said. “Do you want to date now?” 

“Yes,” Etta replied quickly. 

Kate laughed. “Okay, so I guess we’re dating then!” 

Etta beamed. “Is that it?” 

“Pretty much,” Kate said. 

She threw her arms around her. “I can’t believe that was so easy! I thought this would be terrible!” 

“What were you expecting to happen?” Kate said, laughing slightly. “Did you think I’d decide overnight that I actually secretly hated you all this time?” 

“Yes.” 

She kissed Etta’s forehead gently. “Well that’ll never happen. I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but you’re pretty damn awesome. Even if your depression is a jackass and keeps you from seeing it.” 

Etta made a happy noise and snuggled into Kate’s neck. “So is that it? We’re girlfriends now?” 

“Yeah baby, we’re girlfriends now.” 

She couldn’t help her second happy noise and Kate laughed again. “I’m so happy!” Etta said.

She could feel Kate smile as she kissed her temple. “Me too, babe.” 

Etta giggled. “Stop, I’ll just keep making weird squealing noises if you keep that up!” 

“Aw, but those noises are so cute, I want to hear them!” 

Etta buried her face in Kate’s chest, blushing as she squeaked happily again. 

“Aw babe, you’re so cute!” Kate said. 

“How long is this going to go on for before I literally die of happiness?” 

“I don’t know, I think I could keep this up much longer than you can,” Kate said. “Because all I need to do is just talk about all the things I like about you, and I could do that for a while.” 

“Could we spread it out over a couple of days? I’m not used to so much flattery.” 

Kate kissed the top of her head. “Sure thing, babe.” 

Etta snuggled into her neck. “You’re comfy, by the way.” 

“Yeah? You want to go back to sleep?” 

“Nah. I wanna stay awake and talk to you.” 

“What do you want to talk about?” Kate said. 

“Anything,” Etta said.

“Okay, well have I told you about Frank’s Republican friend?” she asked. 

“A little bit.”

“Well let me tell you what he did Monday night…” 

The two of them sat there talking for a couple of hours until Etta’s phone rang. She ignored it and was going to let it just go to voicemail, but Kate noticed the caller id. “It’s Bertie.” 

Etta frowned and reached for the phone. “He never calls.” She answered it. “Hello?” 

“Etta?” Bertie sounded panicked. “I’m sorry I wouldn’t have called but you didn’t answer my texts and-“ 

“Whoa there Bertrand, slow down. What happened?” 

“Can you come over? I really need to talk to somebody.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Seriously folks, tag me in your Bridge posts on tumblr (@pillowcreeks)


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bertie "shit I owe Frank five shots" Renard

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One more chapter left??? One more chapter left!!!

Bertie opened the door to an extremely worried Etta. 

“What happened?” she said. “Did somebody hurt you? Are you okay?” 

Bertie nodded. “Yeah, I’m alright,” he said shakily. 

“You don’t look it. Did you sleep at all last night?” 

“Not really.” 

Etta rolled her eyes and dragged him to his bedroom. “Well there’s your problem. Why didn’t you sleep? Too busy throwing up? Lie down.” 

Bertie obeyed. “More like too busy thinking.” 

She frowned and sat in bed next to him. “What about?” 

“I…” He hesitated. “You can’t laugh, alright?” 

“Okay…” she said, confused. 

“I think I might like Roger.” 

“You mean as friends or in a romantic way? Cause if it’s the first one then buddy I’ve got news for you, you’ve been friends with him for a while.” 

“No, like in a romantic way.” 

“Oh. And that’s bad?” 

“I don’t know.” Bertie was suddenly very glad that he was lying down and could more easily avoid Etta’s eyes. “I don’t know if I’m ready for that.” 

“What do you mean ready? I thought you had some bet going with Frank,” she said. “Wait, is this because of that? Because if you think I’m going to let you stop yourself from finding happiness, even if it is with that idiot, just because of a bet with _Frank_ then-“ 

“It’s not because of that.” 

“Then what is it?” When he doesn’t answer, Etta runs a hand through his hair. “Come on Bertrand,” she said softly. “You can tell me anything.” 

“My fiancé died,” he said. Etta’s hand stilled in his hair. “Car crash. I know it’s stupid, but I just… I think she was my soulmate. And now she’s gone and I don’t want to find out if I was wrong. I especially don’t want to find out that I was wrong and then lose somebody else like that again. I don’t think I could take it.”

The mattress springs squeaked as Etta laid down next to him. “I don’t think that’s stupid, she said. “I think you went through something really really bad and now you’re scared to love again. 

“But I also think that you’re wrong. People fall in love all the time, not just in romantic ways. I mean, you tell me that you love me all the time. But we’re not dating. We’re not _in love._ We just love each other because that’s how we feel. And there’s always going to be that chance of losing somebody. Even if you don’t end up dating him, you’d still be devastated if Roger died, right?” 

Bertie nodded. 

“So then what difference does it make? Isn’t it better to risk the heartbreak and get something good out of it rather than leave things the way they are and get all of the bad and less of the good?” 

“When did you get so wise?” Bertie asked, shifting to look at Etta. 

She gave him a quick grin. “You’re not the only one who thinks about love.” 

He smiled. “So what do I do now?” 

“That depends. Are you going to take my advice?” 

“Yeah. I… I think I want this. It’s scary, but I think it’s a good scary.” 

“Okay but are you sure about this? I mean, it’s _Roger._ You can do so much better,” Etta said. 

Bertie laughed. “I know you don’t like him much, but he really is a good guy.” 

She rolled her eyes. “Yeah. Sure. Whatever you say, Bertrand.” 

“He is.” 

“Please don’t get all sappy and gross on me.” 

“Hey, I let you talk about Kate for months.” 

“Yeah, but that’s Kate. She’s cute and amazing. Speaking of which…” Etta smiled slowly. “While you were having your gay crisis, guess what I was doing?” 

“Please say making out with Kate.” 

Etta grinned and nodded. “Well, maybe not quite making out, but there was kissing.” 

“There was kissing!” Bertie said excitedly. “That’s so great!” 

“I know, it’s amazing. I’ve got a girlfriend now.” 

“Oh my gosh, you two are dating? That’s so gay and adorable.” 

“I know right?” 

A thought suddenly dawned on Bertie. “Wait, you weren’t with her when I called, were you?” 

“Yeah, but it’s fine. You needed me.” 

“Etta, you could’ve told me! I would’ve understood!” 

“Bertrand, come on. I’m your best friend. I’ll always come when you need me,” Etta said. 

“Thanks,” he said. “And you know that I’d do the same for you, right?” 

“Of course. Now come on-“ Etta sat up- “you’ve got a guy to chase down.” 

“Well I don’t exactly need to chase him down. I know where he’s gonna be.” 

Etta raised her eyebrows. “Please tell me you didn’t kidnap him and tie him up in your closet.” 

“Of course not!” Bertie grabbed Roger’s keys from where he left them on his nightstand. “He gave me his keys last night.” 

* * *

Roger had not been having a good day. 

He had woken up with a splitting headache and absolutely no memory of the night before. All he knew was that he had definitely thrown up at some point, if the taste in his mouth was anything to go off of. It was mixed with the taste of mint, so he had presumably tried to get rid of it by brushing his teeth, though he hadn’t had much success on that front. There was a bottle of Advil and a glass of water next to his bed and he took one of the pills without wondering how they had gotten there. Next to the glass his phone flashed with a notification. 

_1 Unread Text Message_

His stomach dropped when he saw who it was from before falling into the core of the Earth as he read the message. 

_Bertie Renard: I’ve got your keys. I’ll bring them by this afternoon._

The message was sent at nearly three in the morning. Which meant that Bertie had most likely brought him home last night and was the one responsible for putting the pills next to his bed. Which meant that he had definitely seen Roger make a complete drunken fool of himself. 

Roger groaned and hide under his covers. The text did not exist. This was all a very, very bad dream. He kept telling himself that until he got dressed and discovered that his keys were, in fact, not in his pocket like they should have been. 

He proceeded to spend the rest of the day pretending that not only did the text not exist, but he did not exist, and so there was no way that he could have embarrassed himself in front of the man that he had been in love with for the past year. This would have been a lot easier to do if his neighbours would stop banging on his ceiling with a sledgehammer, but Roger was used to doing things that weren’t easy. He could manage this one too. 

The buzzer to his apartment went off sometime after one. He hesitated before responding. 

“Yes?” He tried to keep the pain out of his voice. 

“Hey, Roger?” Bertie’s nervous voice greeted him. “I just came to return your keys. Do… Do you mind if I come up?” 

“Yeah, sure.” He buzzed him through. 

Even though Bertie had the keys, he still knocked when he reached the apartment. Roger let him in but barely looked at him before collapsing back onto the couch. “Just leave the keys wherever,” he mumbled into the cushion. 

He heard the jangle of keys being set down before; “So is your hangover that bad?” 

Roger groaned. “What do you think? Also why are you shouting, that’s so rude.” 

“Sorry. And I’m not surprised, you were pretty drunk… Do you remember anything from last night?” 

“I remember we were drinking. After that, it’s a complete blank.” Roger hesitated before rolling over. Might as well get it over with. “You helped me home, didn’t you?” 

Bertie’s cheeks were flushed. “Yes.” 

Oh no, not that embarrassed look with the embarrassed squeak. “Did something happen?” 

Bertie hesitated. “Do you… Do you really not remember anything?” 

Roger groaned. “Oh fuck, that means yes, doesn’t it?” 

“No! No, it’s…” Bertie sighed. “Nothing _happened_ but you were definitely implying some things.” 

He groaned again and covered his face with his hands. “Bertie, I am _so_ sorry…” 

“No, it’s okay. I… I really liked it, actually.” 

Roger peeked out at him. “You what?” 

“I liked what you were saying. You were talking about how you wanted to take care of me, how you really care about me and would do anything for me. I know you were drunk and it doesn’t mean anything. We can just forget it ever happened, I’m fine with that if it’s what you want.” 

Roger sat up slowly. “You liked what I was saying?” 

“Yeah.” 

“Sit down.” 

“What?” Bertie said, confused. 

“Sit down, I want to say it again. So that you know that I mean it and that I want to say it.” 

“Are you still drunk?” Bertie asked, sitting down slowly. 

Roger rolled his eyes. “No. I just want you to know that I’m certain about what I said. I want to say how I feel and not regret it. Which is… weird, for me.” 

“You don’t have to if you don’t want to. I don’t want to force you.” 

“Will you shut up and let me be an idiot?” 

Bertie laughed softly. “Okay, okay. Go ahead and be an idiot.” 

Roger took a deep breath and got ready to say what he had been thinking for the past year. But then- “I don’t know what to say.” 

Bertie burst out laughing and Roger winced. “Too loud,” he moaned, rubbing his temples. 

Bertie smiled softly. “Sorry.” 

“It’s fine.” 

“I can’t believe you went through that whole pre-ramble about wanting to tell me how you feel only to have no idea what to say.” 

Roger huffed. “It’s not easy to tell somebody you care about them.” 

“Well there you go. You just did.” 

“What?” 

“You just told me you care about me,” Bertie said. 

“Not like that,” Roger said. “Properly.” 

“Is that what you want to do?” 

“Yes. I want you to know how much I care about you,” he said. “I need it to be clear so that we’re on the same page.” 

“Okay. Then just… take your time. You don’t have to rush.” 

Roger bit his lip, trying not to get frustrated. “I just… I really care about you. More than I thought I could. And definitely more than I thought I would. You’re just… Fuck, you’re amazing.” 

Bertie grinned. “Fuck, you’re amazing. It’s everything I always wanted.” 

He glared at him. “Be serious.” 

“I am.” Bertie rested his forehead against his. “It’s so perfectly you. I love it.” 

“Don’t be gross,” Roger grumbled. 

Bertie laughed softly. “Okay, I won’t. But… I know you have trouble with being vulnerable and open with your feelings. We can take it slow.” 

“Are you sure?” 

“Yeah. Yeah, I think I’ll be needing that too.” Roger gave him a questioning look but Bertie shook his head. “We can talk about that stuff later. For now I’d just really like to know if I can kiss you.” 

“No, my mouth still tastes like vomit.” 

Bertie laughed. “Then do you want to watch shitty movies for the rest of the afternoon?” 

“Only if we can make fun of them.” 

“Of course. Laptop?” 

“In my bedroom.” 

Bertie ran off and got it. Roger put his password in before letting Bertie search for a suitably terrible movie. Once he had chosen one, Roger swung his legs over Bertie’s and curled up into the curve of his neck. 

“Don’t forget to turn the brightness down,” he mumbled. 

Bertie laughed and complied. “Sound okay?” 

“Mmhm.” 

Bertie grabbed a blanket from the end of the sofa and wrapped it around them. Roger pulled it up over his head. “Really?” Bertie said. 

“The light is evil, burn it with darkness,” he mumbled. 

“If it would make you happy,” Bertie replied.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Follow me on tumblr @pillowcreeks for gay screaming


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We return to the bar one last time.

Kate wasn’t sure what she had been expecting to see when she got to the bar for her Friday night shift. But it certainly wasn’t Etta talking excitedly to POSEIDON while Bertie poured out a large number of shots and Frank counted them out. 

“What’s going on?” she asked. 

Etta looked over and beamed when she saw her. “Kate! Hi!” 

“Hi ba-artender,” Kate quickly corrected her babe. She got the feeling that pet names at work wouldn’t go over too well with their employers. She asked again. “What’s going on?” 

“Oh! Bertie’s fulfilling his bet with Frank and I’m making plans with POSEIDON.” 

“We’re going to egg the butcher’s shop,” Percy told her cheerfully. 

Kate gave Etta a surprised look. “You’re going to egg the butcher’s shop?” 

“It’s called Hopper’s,” Etta said. “ _Hopper’s._ How disrespectful is that?” 

“Ah, good point. Make sure to hit ‘em good then. Of course, I know nothing of this plan.” 

“You make a good accomplice,” Nora said with a wink. “You’d make a good murderer.” 

“Shots are up!” Frank yelled. 

“Damn Bertie, how many shots did you bet?” Kate said. There had to be at least twenty spread out along the bar. 

“Only five,” he said, embarrassed. “But then the other three saw me pouring them for Frank and decided that they wanted in. They’re paying for their own though.” 

“Less talking, more shooting,” Bollard said. “Are we ready to go?” 

The others all nodded and Etta began counting off the shots. Percy dropped out coughing around shot three, but the other three managed to get through all five before collapsing against the bar, groaning. Or at least Frank and Nora did. Bollard just slapped the bar happily and asked Bertie to pour her another five. 

“You’re going to die…” Percy moaned. 

“You only think that because you don’t know that I’ve been dead inside for years,” she said. 

“Can I join you?” Frank moaned. “Bertie this was the worst idea, I’m so glad that you won and don’t have to deal with this.” 

“Uh, Frank? I _lost_ the bet,” Bertie said. 

“No. No, you definitely won it. You get a boyfriend and no death by shots, that’s definitely winning.” 

“Speaking of which, where is Roger?” Kate asked. 

“Dealing with the big boss in the back,” Etta said. “I think she’s trying to get him to host another Trivia Night.” 

“I thought he refused after the last one because it would kill off all his remaining brain cells to hear one more person call frogs legless spiders.” 

Etta shrugged. “Apparently Yvette’s already booked that entire week off. So it’s either him or the boss does it herself.” 

“Oh please let it be him, she would be a terrible host,” Kate said. 

“If he does get it, I’m going to book the night off and bring my own team and come up with the absolute worst answers.” 

“Ooo, can we join you?” Nora asked. 

Etta clapped and pointed at her. “There’s my team! Be sure to bring your banjo. I’m thinking you go nuts on it every time we get an answer wrong, but I’m open to new ideas.” 

“You’re terrible and I love it,” Kate said, kissing Etta’s cheek. 

“No PDA at work,” a singsongy voice said. Kate looked over to see their boss standing at the entrance to the kitchen. 

“Ah. Hi there, Deep,” Etta said awkwardly. 

“Henrietta. Lovely as ever to see you.” Deep nodded at Bollard. “You ready to go?” 

Bollard finished her last shot and slapped some money on the counter. “Yep.” 

The two of them headed out the door, Percy and Nora trailing along behind them. 

Roger poked his head out of the kitchen. “Is she gone?” 

“Yeah man, she’s gone,” Frank said. 

He sighed and came out of the kitchen. “Good.” 

“I’d better take off too,” Frank said. He pointed at Bertie and did what was likely his impression at a menacing glare at Roger. “You take care of this one, you hear?” 

“Yeah, sure,” Roger said, looking more confused by what Frank’s face was doing than anything else. 

“So, what’s the verdict?” Etta asked once Frank had left. “Are you running the next Trivia Night?” 

Roger sighed. “Yeah. I couldn’t get out of it.” 

“Oh no, how terrible,” Etta said in her fakest sympathetic voice. “Speaking of which, do you mind if I book that day off? I think I’ll be needing it to finish up my thesis.” 

“Yeah, I’ll see what I can do,” Roger said before heading into the back with her. 

Bertie smiled at Kate. “We shouldn’t.” 

She grinned back. “We really should.” 

“He’ll hate us.” 

“It’ll be so worth it though. Banjo playing, Bertie. Come on.” 

“Okay, okay.” He grinned and headed into the back. “Hey Roger, I think Kate and I’ll be needing the night off too!” 

“Oh no, if I have to suffer, you two have to as well!” Roger called back. 

“Please?” 

“Oh fuck, not the puppy eyes.” 

Kate laughed and followed Bertie back. “It’s just that we’re going to be _super_ busy that week with life stuff, and I just don’t think we’ll be able to make it.” 

“I hate you.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> FUCKING SHIT I CAN'T BELIEVE THIS IS OVER???? 
> 
> Real talk for a minute: I haven't finished a multi-chapter story since grade ten. I'm going into my third year of university. That means it's been over four years. So like, this is really big for me. 
> 
> I'd like to give a HUGE thank you to everybody who has been reading along this whole time, but especially the amazing Kate and Reader. I couldn't have done it without all of your amazing support, you have been a blessing. 
> 
> You can follow me on tumblr @pillowcreeks. As always, comments are highly appreciated. 
> 
> And finally, be sure to watch this space 
> 
> Gone: Coming September 18th 2017.


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